Uncertain Certainty
by NatNazzy
Summary: Grizzly double murders are occurring right on the BAU's doorstop. With no consistent victimology or certifiable M.O., it takes the abduction of the FBI's youngest for the puzzle pieces to fall into place. With nothing but his mind as his weapon and an innocent young woman to protect, how will Dr Reid escape an Unsub's twisted dream and the horrifying fate set forth before him?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Day One**

It wasn't the pounding of his head so much as the frigid cold seeping through his clothes and chilling him to the very bone that caused him discomfort as he awoke.

His vision was cloudy, and although he was able to move his extremities, he found with increasing panic that he could not actually _feel _them adequately_. _The limbs did not move like they were his own; and when he raised a hand to rub at his tired eyes he realised that his fingers were positively numb.

The sensation could best be described as moving through water; he was capable of doing it – but only at a snail's pace; with great difficulty and ever increasing frustration.

His mind was groggy, and he felt like he had just woken from a thousand year sleep whilst simultaneously feeling like he hadn't slept for that same length of time. Try as he might, he could not piece together the details of the situation he was in, or how he had come to be here.

Realising that he was still lying on his side, cheek resting against what he presumed to be a stone-cold steel floor, Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid attempted to sit up.

As he struggled to lay his hands before him and press his weight into them, the young FBI agent immediately grew thankful at the revelation that he was in no way bound; the irony of him being shackled by his borderline comatose state, however, was not lost on him.

Finally, after much struggle, the young man managed to heave himself into a sitting position with his back leaning against an equally cold, equally hard wall, which he too presumed to be made of steel; stainless, given its texture.

He sighed in relief as he managed to shift his weight, opening his eyes and becoming panicked at the blurry images that clouded his vision. Immediately, he shut his eyes again as the harsh light of fluorescents scorched his retinas. The young agent tried once again to open them but to no avail, the action only yielding the same result as it did the last time. Whatever he had been drugged with had really done a number on his neuro-transmitters.

The notion of being drugged would have panicked him, however, he wasn't experiencing the tell-tale high, comedown or withdrawal symptoms that would have been associated with it; and so he assumed that whatever had been used was non-narcotic – for which he was highly thankful.

He chose not to dwell on the 'what if's' should he suddenly start experiencing drug withdrawal, and sat back and focused his mind instead; calming his breathing and forcing himself to recite the sequence of events that had led him to his current predicament.

He remembered that he and the team had been down at a local precinct, a stream of shocking and equally confusing double murders having brought them down there – a local precinct in the heart of Quantico, right outside their back doors and home to one of the most puzzling cases the team had been presented with in a very long time.

After another long day of gathering evidence, all in a vain attempt at deciphering who this Unsub was and what their motive or trigger might be, Hotch had ordered his frustrated team to go home and get some rest. There was a new angle at which he had wanted to approach the case, suggested by Reid himself; however, he had only wanted to broach the change in direction once the team was well rested and able to look at the different approach with fresh eyes.

It had been early enough in the evening that Reid was able to catch the subway if he walked fast enough; and so he had declined Morgan's offer to drive him home, opting to take the walk and relish in the opportunity to clear his head instead. He had wanted to get as far away from work as he possibly could.

He hadn't banked on his work following him home.

The commute back to his apartment had been unremarkable. He supposed that was why he had managed to let his guard down – it was no excuse for an FBI agent, but still. Reid had returned home, unclipping his gun to rest it on the side table closest to his front door and moving towards the kitchen, switching on lights as he went, oblivious to the shadows and the pair of eyes that had moved within them as he had filled his kettle and had set it down to boil.

He hated to admit it, but the journey home – which was supposed to have offered him solace and peace of mind – had only served to push him deeper into thought. The young agent surmised that that was why he hadn't even registered the fact that his house alarm had been disabled, the robotic beeping drone being absent when he had entered his apartment – a fact that hadn't mattered to him amongst his loaded and jumbled thoughts.

In the moment that it had taken him to set his kettle down to boil, however, it had registered to him. He had spun around in an attempt to reach for his gun, but he was already too late. His head had collided with something hard and firm and he had collapsed to the ground, staring up at his ceiling completely dazed as he had tried to will his shocked body to move, becoming frustrated when it had not complied.

His frustration had quickly turned to fear as a broad, dark shadow had loomed over him, before leaning down and pressing a moist cloth to his face, covering both his mouth and his nose.

He remembered that he had tried to struggle, putting up a fairly decent fight in fact, but the man had been a lot stronger than he was and had had the advantage of lucidity on his side; and before Reid had even known what was happening, vicious black spots had begun to cloud his vision before the entire world around him had faded to black.

That was the last thing he remembered, aside from waking up in this freezing stainless steel box; and yes he knew it was stainless steel based on the texture and feel of the metal beneath his fingertips; but now was most certainly not the time for a physics lesson or a lecture in engineering.

He heard a soft groan from directly in front of him, prompting him to release a groan of his own at the onslaught of light as he snapped his eyes open. He shut them hastily again before peeking them open, ever so slowly, to allow his eyes the time to acclimatise to the harsh light and recover their vision after their drug-induced grogginess.

It took him a few minutes, but he eventually managed to open them fully, though he had to squint due to their now heightened sensitivity.

Observing the world around him, he realised that the freezing stainless steel box he was in was precisely that – it was a large freezer, the kind typically found in restaurants or hotels, the young agent deducing one of those options to be his current location. Though given the sheer number of hotels and restaurants within the Quantico vicinity, it really gave no clues as to exactly where in the city he was – if he was still even in Quantico at all, but the profile the team had managed to flesh out together thus far suggested that he was.

The freezer was filled with various metal trays and moveable steel carts, and he was just questioning how strange it was that there was only a sparse amount of food in the fridge when another quiet groan caught his attention.

He turned his head to look before him and immediately his eyes raked over the form of a woman. She was laying face down and her long, dark hair obscured her face from his view, but he guessed her to be around the same age that he was.

He took in the rest of her form and immediately his eyebrows furrowed first in panicked confusion and then in startled realisation. She was dressed in nothing but her underwear… and unfortunately for the two of them, this fit the somewhat gaunt profile that the team had managed to establish – down to the very T.

The team had managed to deduce that the Unsub was without a doubt a masochist. The female murder victims were always shown to have been objectified and dehumanised throughout their captivity in one way or another, whilst the male victims were never found to have endured such blatant objectification. Thankfully, there were never any signs of forced or violent sexual assault found in their autopsies. The team had found this strange considering the nature and ideals of masochists; but given the situation Reid now found himself him, he couldn't have been more happy for that one, single outlier in the profile than he was right now. It also informed him that, without a shadow of a doubt, his abduction was directly related to the case the team was working on. He was already drawing far too similarities for it to be a simple coincidence.

The young agent squashed down his panic, urging himself to remember that he at least had an advantage; given that he knew the profile, as meagre as it was. Instead of despairing, he forced his tired body to move as he half crawled, half stumbled the small distance between himself and the woman.

He lay his fingers against the pulse point in her neck, she shifted slightly at the sensation but otherwise had no other reaction. He matched the steady thrum of her heart to the ticking hand of his watch and surmised that her pulse was steady and strong, though he noticed it begin to speed up as her awareness slowly came back to her.

"Ma'am?" He asked hesitantly, unsure of how he should address her.

She moaned slightly and her hand came to rest on the side of her head, she winced as it made contact and Reid saw the small coagulation of blood resting on her temple. It seemed that they were both struck down and drugged before they were abducted.

The young woman attempted to sit up, but her arms would not allow for the added weight and she slipped out from beneath herself, shivering as her bare skin once again came into contact with the stainless steel floor.

"Ma'am?" Reid questioned again, and he was relieved when she actually turned her head to look at him.

Though her gaze was unfocused, her eyes quickly widened in panic as the realisation of what had happened began to dawn her.

"It's okay." Reid tried to reassure her, raising his hands in front of him in what he believed to be a soothing gesture, though he quickly lowered them again as she instinctively flinched away from him, dark brown eyes glistening with fear.

"I just woke up too." He tried again, and though he didn't realise it, it was the dry matting of blood on the side of his head that matched hers, rather than his words themselves, that soothed her. The wound he sported was evidence enough that he was in the same predicament as she was.

"What –" She started as she tried to push herself up again. Reid wasn't entirely sure if he should help her. He didn't want to frighten her further and if he was honest, the thought of touching her when she was dressed so minimally made him feel uncomfortable, and he had no doubt that it would make her feel uncomfortable too.

The choice, however, was not his own as her hand slipped on the stainless steel in her next attempt to sit up and her head went barrelling towards the floor. He grabbed her shoulder in the nick of time, asking if she was alright, though she appeared to be unconcerned.

"Where?" She tried again, though she cut herself off, covering her eyes with her hand as she struggled with the glare of the fluorescent lights bouncing off of the shining stainless steel around them and into her eyes; much like Reid had.

"I'm not sure." Reid began, wanting to tell her more though not trusting the freezer they were in to not be wired. He didn't want to let on that he knew this Unsub better than he thought he did – though if he was abducted in connection to being involved in the investigation the Unsub probably knew of his job description and exactly what it entailed in any case.

She nodded resolutely, his aura of calm seeming to calm her as well and for that, he was grateful. He felt the goose-bumps rise to her skin right before she shivered, and it was only once she looked down to the offending goose-flesh on her arms that she realised he still had a steadying hand on her shoulder – and that she was dressed in absolutely nothing more than her white undergarments.

Her breath hitched in mortification at the realisation and she buried her face in her hands, too cold to blush and far too humiliated to look him in the eye again.

She felt him remove his hand and she heard him shift beside her, she lowered her hands when she felt him nudge something against her arms.

"Here." He said shyly, handing her the navy blue cardigan he had been wearing.

"T-thank you." She said, though she made no move to take it. When he looked at her in confusion she elaborated. "Won't you be cold though?"

He smiled at her kindly. "I'd say you need it more than I do."

And as she looked at him and saw that he was lucky enough to be dressed not only in his shoes and slacks, but a long sleeved shirt, rolled up to his elbows, as well; she realised that it was true – the skin of her back and legs, which was forced to touch the stainless steel, having gone numb from the cold before she had even woken up.

Though it wasn't the thickest item of clothing, the cardigan did in fact help – more to shield her modesty than anything else; but she was grateful to him for not making a scene about her state of dress, and she realised with much satisfaction that the cardigan was long enough to reach just below her hip bones, covering her upper torso completely and making her feel that much more comfortable.

She smiled as she buttoned up the cardigan, realising that his eyes hadn't wandered from her face for a single moment since she had been lucid, and that he seemed so genuinely kind and good-hearted that she didn't doubt that they hadn't wandered when she had been unconscious either.

_At least my cell mate's a gentleman. _She mused sadly, knowing that she could have had it much, much worse, but really not itching to look at the glass 'half-full' given her current predicament.

The young agent watched her as she did up the buttons, profiling her though he didn't mean to. She was an introvert, that much was clear; painfully shy and lacking self-confidence. At first glance she was little more than average. Dark hair and dark eyes with skin so pale it rivalled his own, her personality seemingly lacking, but aiding her unassuming looks in helping her get lost in the crowd, preventing her from getting noticed. Perhaps she preferred it that way? But on closer inspection you could see that she was pretty. Her skin didn't seem as translucent as his own did, and her eyes ceased being average the longer you gazed into them, two dark pools that if you took the effort to look into, pulled you in and didn't let you go. Her hair was thick and full, and though he hadn't allowed himself to get a good look at the rest of her he could tell that she was appealing in her physique; perhaps a little too thin, but appealing nonetheless.

She really was the perfect target for their Unsub. There was intelligence behind each of her features, and he could tell that her intelligence was one of her most valuable assets; the one thing she allowed herself to take pride in.

"What's your name?" He suddenly blurted out; unsatisfied that he didn't have a name to attach to her profile.

She smiled warmly at him as she did up the last button, half-whispering as she lowered her gaze meekly. "Alyson. Though you can just call me Aly."

"Spencer." He replied, surprising himself that he hadn't said 'Doctor Reid' or 'Agent Reid' or something of the sort like he usually did. For some reason, he didn't feel that kind of formality with regards to Alyson.

They smiled at each other for a few moments, Alyson about to her open her mouth to say something when all of a sudden; the lights above them went out completely, thrusting the two of them into a vicious and harsh darkness.

The young woman had to bite her lip to prevent herself from screaming out in fear, though she heard a slightly panicked squeak come from Spencer who shifted beside her.

Instinctively, she reached for him, feeling better when she managed to latch on to his shirt sleeve.

With the absence of the hostile fluorescent lights came an increased crescendo of humming and droning from the giant freezer's thermostat. Blanketed in darkness, the coldness of the stainless steel around them seemed to increase ten-fold, and both bodies began to shiver – whether from the cold or from fear or perhaps a combination of both, neither was sure.

Nothing was certain in this ominous black hole, devoid of light and colour and reassurance and _warmth. _The thermostat, omnipotent in their tiny metal prison, droned on, and Spencer's ears quickly became overwhelmed at the sudden onslaught of sound due to the banishment of his sense of sight.

All at once, a thousand sordid images, all perfectly encased and utterly preserved in his eidetic memory, burst to the forefront of his mind. Crime scene photos, contact details, bits of paper, pieces of information; all of them merging together to form one vast puzzle – no longer individual pieces.

Suddenly Spencer's blood ran colder than the freezing air blasting from the thermostat. It all made perfect sense now, how he had missed it before he did not know, but he knew now and it did nothing to calm his fears. No, it only served to escalate them.

As he sat in his dark, perfectly gilded cage, a frightened young woman who had done absolutely nothing wrong clinging to his arm; his mind wound a series of events together the way an editor arranges stills of a movie into one long video tape.

A series of events that all of the victims had had to endure.

A series of unfortunate events that both he and Alyson were going to be forced to partake in.

He wondered what Lemony Snicket would have to say about that and found that he couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of it all.

All he could do now was bide his time, inform Alyson as much as possible, and pray to any God above that would listen, that the team would figure it out and figure it out soon – before the final scene of the movie was allowed to play out, in both perfect and morbid precision, the climax being one of the most twisted and unexpected endings any single one of them could ever have foreseen.

**I needed a break from "Feed the Fire Within". Should I continue with this?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**A/N: wow the response I received for this was so overwhelming how could I not continue? So seriously big thank you to all the people who favorited, followed and reviewed. It means the world to know people are reading and enjoying.**

**Also, this will stay T rated, however, if I ever feel the need to warn you guys for any reason I will do so. (Doubt it though). **

**Day One (Continued)**

Neither Spencer nor Alyson knew how long they had been trapped in that freezer, but the young agent had had enough field experience to know that it was beginning to have an adverse impact on the young woman beside him.

Initially, the lights above them had only remained off for a small while, and Spencer had managed to convince himself that it was merely an electronic glitch – a power outage perhaps.

But when it happened for a second time, and then a third time, and then an innumerable amount of times after that, the young profiler knew it was more than faulty electronics… it was a scare tactic, and a very effective one at that.

The length of time they were thrust into darkness never remained constant, and the Unsub had recently taken to flickering the lights on and off to emulate that of a sadistic disco strobe. Alyson had clutched at him impossibly tighter then, shifting her body so that her side was flush against his own; for both heat and reassurance.

Although somewhat uncomfortable with the contact, he had tried to soothe her as best as he could; but she wasn't a seasoned FBI agent. She couldn't see this for what it was, and as her breathing became laboured and her shaking changed from cold-induced to adrenaline-induced, he knew that he had to try and calm her down as best he could. A panic attack would do nothing to help either one of them.

"Alyson?" He questioned in his softest tone.

She shifted in response to the sound of his voice but otherwise gave no further reaction.

"Alyson, can you look at me?" The lights had come back on now, and he was surprised when she lifted her head from where she had them buried in her arms that were wrapped around her knees, to look at him through squinted eyes.

Carefully, he whispered to her, unsure of whether the freezer was wired for audio or not. "You can't let this affect you."

He expected her reaction; for her eyes to widen and for her to release a slightly manic laugh in exasperation.

"I know," he continued, patting her arm, "that it's asking a lot, but he's doing this to scare us. It's a well-known scare tactic that has been used in many wars, interrogations and acts of torture. It's used to break people down to their weakest so that they do not resist and instead, act with the utmost compliance. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall but nodded her head. "He wants us to do whatever he says so that we don't fight back."

"Exactly." He affirmed, happy that she had both listened to him and reached a viable conclusion. She was smart, but not impressionable. It was obvious, however; that, for whatever reason, she seemed to trust him. He was grateful for that, knowing that it was going to make things a lot easier for him as he tried to navigate the two of them through the awful predicament that they found themselves in.

He had always been responsible for people's lives when working on cases, but now, with Alyson seated right next to him, the responsibility felt more real to him than it ever had before. Suddenly, he found the pressure at his newly assigned role of 'protector' overwhelming. Looking after his mother and preventing an innocent young woman from being hurt and even killed were two completely different things.

Vaguely, he thought of Morgan, and then Hotch and even Rossi, and how they would be so much better suited for this situation than he was – typical alpha males, the stereotypical protectors. He possessed neither of those characteristics, and he felt overwhelmed at the burden that he now felt placed upon his shoulders, as tight and constricting as the grip that Alyson had on his arm.

Her hushed voice startled him out of his reverie. "How do you know all of this? You seem so calm, like you're familiar with these kinds of situations?"

Briefly, he debated on how much to tell her, deciding that it would be best to settle on the truth, but he was cut off from answering when the sound of someone fiddling with the lock on the freezer door echoed in the tiny space, followed by the harsh turning of the handle before the door itself was slammed open.

A broad, hulking shadow loomed in the doorway, and Spencer didn't notice anything regarding the man's features except for the fact that he held a gun in his left hand.

The shadow took a step into the light and the young agent's stomach plummeted at the realisation that the Unsub's face wasn't covered. Their odds at being released and escaping this predicament alive and unscathed just dropped by such a large percentage that Spencer didn't care to deduce the exact number.

The man was huge, intimidating in his broad, tall frame and bulky shoulders that had both Spencer and Alyson swallowing thickly. He had dark, olive skin and looked to be of a Southern American descent. He was young, maybe around twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, with black hair buzzed down to an almost military style hair-cut. His most striking, as well as his most intimidating, feature were his eyes – dark to the point of being onyx and completely cold and impassive. They were eyes filled with immeasurable rage, emotions of so many kinds swirling within their depths; confusion, betrayal, sadness, even fear, but it didn't take much profiling for Spencer to know that the man was unreachable – too far gone in his own pain to be reasoned with and far too savage to be talked down.

Their best line of defence would be to play into his fantasy for as long as possible, to comply with his orders and do whatever he said so as not enrage him further, his temper being his most volatile and unpredictable attribute.

He yearned to be able to tell Alyson as much, to warn her and coach her actions so that she could protect herself; but any hope of having this opportunity was shattered as the man stomped forwards, raising the gun to point it directly at Spencer's head in a clear warning before grabbing Alyson's upper arm and roughly yanking her from the ground.

She screeched in pain at the motion, and he felt his own arm flare up harshly as her fingernails raked over his skin, trying to hold onto him for as long as he could.

He felt completely helpless, trying to catch the Unsub's eyes with his own, but the man didn't spare him a further glance. Instead he turned, with the gun still pointed in Spencer's direction, and stormed back out of the freezer, dragging Alyson behind him.

She tried to pull away from him, but her attempts were as futile as a new-born baby bird trying to escape the razor-sharp teeth of a fox. All the Unsub had to do was pull on her harder and she was sent barrelling into the man's side.

In a last ditch effort of redemption, she turned her head over her shoulder and looked to Spencer, pleading, terror encrusted all over her face.

He didn't even think before he pushed himself to his feet, moving to go after her.

"Wait!" He yelled out, but he was already too late, the Unsub already had Alyson beyond the threshold of the freezer door.

The last thing Spencer saw was Alyson's face, contorted in fear as she tried to fight the tears from falling, but not succeeding as two droplets squeezed through her composure. As quickly as it had been opened, the door was slammed shut in his face, thrusting the young agent into a deafening silence that betrayed the horror that had just unfolded.

He had just moved to where he had been sat previously, berating himself harshly for his delayed reaction and his inability to help Alyson when, once again, the lights turned out, and he was thrown into darkness just like he had been before – only this time there was no suffocating, yet strangely reassuring pressure on his forearm, courtesy of an innocent young woman who he hadn't been strong enough to protect.

O-O-O-O-O

Almost paralysed by fear, the young woman followed the man in front of her blindly, the bruising grip he had on her upper arm leaving her with no other choice.

She surmised that it was night time, given that every window she happened to pass was black due to the influence of the night sky. This man seemed to know exactly where he was going, even though each hallway they turned into was darker than the one before it, and it was only when they passed a dusty 'entranceway' of sorts that she realised where she was.

It looked like this massive man was leading her through a hotel, or at least what used to be a hotel, given that this one was clearly abandoned.

She could tell it used to be fancy. The reception area had a wilting chandelier covered in dust that descended from the arched, domed roof. And she could only imagine how the black and white patched marbled floors must have shone beneath its luminescence, igniting the room and its valiant décor in crystalline shades of soft, glowing light.

But now… it resembled what she could only describe as sadness. Like a wonderful dream you wake up from and know you had, but whose details completely evade you. She felt her heart darken at the very notion and realised that if this was where the man before her had been living, it only made sense that he felt as sad and used as the very hotel that he inhabited.

He pulled her towards a line of elevators and she wondered if his mind was truly all there. It was obvious that there was no power being supplied to the hotel, so how exactly did he expect the elevators to work?

She was surprised when he pushed the up button and the doors to one of the elevators actually opened. Hoisting her inside, she realised that he must have access to some sort of power generator. It would explain how the lights in the freezer worked as well as the elevator but not the entire hotel as a whole.

The image of the freezer made Alyson think of Spencer, and she hoped that he was okay. She berated herself as soon as she thought it, but really she wished for nothing more than for him to be with her right now. He seemed to know exactly what to do in this situation, and she was completely clueless.

Desperately she wanted to question the man whose grip on her arm had not yet loosened. She saw him push the button that would take them straight to the penthouse and the young woman had no other desire but to ask him what the hell he wanted; but there was something in Spencer's eyes as she had been pulled from that freezer that prevented her from acting on the impulse; something that begged her to keep quiet and not anger the man that had her maintaining her silence.

As she watched the lights on the elevator buttons dance their way up towards the penthouse she felt her legs begin to shake. By the time the doors opened with a sharp _ding _her entire frame was wracked with tremors and she squeezed her eyes shut as she urged the tears not to flow.

So caught up was she in trying to slow down her racing heart, she didn't even notice that she was inside the room until she heard the door slam shut behind her, jumping at the harshness of the sound in the silent space.

Even through the mist in her vision, courtesy of her tears, Alyson was able to curl her lip up in distaste at the completely kitsch and over-the-top state of the room.

It was blanketed in reds and maroons, complimented by the dark undertones of mahogany wood from the surrounding furniture. Whilst the combination, in theory, appears complimentary, in this room it was nothing short of tacky – a clear and obvious mockery of the 'Moulin Rouge' and the romance and passion associated with it.

Alyson felt her stomach drop as soon as she thought the words 'romance' and 'passion', but she was distracted by movement around her as the bulky man moved about the room and flickered on various lamps as he did so. All the lamp shades were curtained in red and trimmed with black lace, so that the glow they emitted wasn't bright and informative but rather dark and smouldering, matching the effect of the maroon carpet and dark red painted walls.

She took one long look at the newly illuminated room given the situation and could compare it to only one thing… Blood. Fresh and new, and instantly she felt sick.

The young woman turned to the man, desperately then, and began to beg. "Please." She started. "Please, let me go. I haven't done anything. I won't tell anyone about this, I don't even know where I am! If you just take me back home I swear I –"

She was cut off as the man skulked towards her and delivered a harsh and painful slap to the side of her face, the sound echoing throughout the room and reverberating off of the walls.

The tears that she had been working so hard to contain spilled from her eyes, and still the man made no sound. She tried her best to look him in the eyes, but the hostility she found there was enough to have her averting her gaze to the revolting carpet below.

The silence seemed to stretch on for hours until, finally, he spoke. "Take off that jumper."

Startled, she looked at him. "W-what?"

"It's not yours, take it off."

"N-no." She stuttered out helplessly as he advanced on her.

Roughly he grabbed her arm again and snagged it in a way that was meant to hurt. She bit back her cry of pain and almost missed what he said next, wishing that she had.

"Go to the bed."

She didn't even try to withhold her panic this time, immediately lashing out at him and trying to fight him with everything she had, to do anything to get out of his grip, but he was too strong. She managed to dodge him as he attempted to slap her again, and she exhaled in relief , the moment short-lived as she was unable to avoid his next attack, the slap sending her into a daze and effectively banishing any fight that she thought she may have had left in her.

She cried openly now, furious that her body was not responding to the commands of her brain and petrified as she felt the harsh steel of a handcuff wrap its way around her tiny wrist. She was not too proud to resign herself to begging.

"Please. Please don't! Why are you doing this? Please don't do this!"

"A woman should always be in the house to welcome a man home." He said by way of answer, as if that explained everything.

"I don't understand! How is this welcoming you home? No don't!" She practically screamed the last part as she heard the accompanying cuff wrap its way around the bed post. She hadn't even felt him push her towards it.

"Not me." He said.

Alyson relaxed slightly at that revelation, but not by much. He could have accomplices, friends who were with him in this sick game.

She's not sure where the short burst of courage, or perhaps it was stupidity, came from, but she suddenly felt such anger, such unsheltered rage that she narrowed her eyes to slits and hissed at him with as much venom as she could possibly muster. "You're disgusting, and you _revolt _me."

The young woman didn't even have time to think before his fist collided squarely with her face. Now, she was relieved for the bed and the fact that she was handcuffed to it; it served to break her fall and cushion her landing with its thick, lace-trimmed sheets.

If she wasn't dazed before, she was certainly dazed now. Alyson had never in her life been hit by someone, let alone a man, and she could do nothing except exhale in relief as she heard his footsteps retreat and the door slam closed behind him.

The pounding in her head convinced her to lay her head back and stretch herself out. She couldn't recall ever being this tired in her entire life, and Alyson hoped with every fibre of her being that Spencer wasn't being subjected to the same harsh treatment. He had seemed like such a nice guy, and he definitely didn't deserve to suffer that kind of infliction.

It's not like she deserved to suffer these kinds of inflictions either.

Alyson was humiliated at how much she was crying. She had always prided herself on being able to rein in her emotions, but she was just so _scared. _Water still leaked from her eyes as she silently cried, turning on her side and burying her head on her arm that was imprisoned by the bed-post, dreading when she would next hear the sound of the bedroom door opening again.

As it turns out, she didn't have to wait long. In what felt like no time at all she heard the knob turn and the door creak open, however, she heard two pairs of feet instead of one and immediately froze in fear.

It was the sharp intake of breath that caused her to move her head so that her cheek was lying on her arm, allowing her to open her eyes and assess who she was being faced with this time.

Relief flooded her system as horror flooded Spencer's own when their eyes met.

Slowly, he turned to face the Unsub and they simply stared at each other; silently sizing each other up. They were akin in height, though that's where the similarities ended. The Unsub had far more muscle than Spencer could ever care to try and rationalise, and he flashed his gun, wielding it in the sparse light so that it glimmered threateningly by his side and reminded the young agent of exactly who was in control.

Spencer acquiesced, for now.

"Get on the bed." The man said simply, though his temper quickly flared to the surface when the young profiler made no attempt to move. "Get on the bed." He hissed again, raising the gun in a warning.

Spencer swallowed and then began to walk hesitantly to where Alyson lay.

As he got closer, he noticed the tear tracks staining her face, clear evidence of her distress. He also noticed the angry red welts that had risen on her cheeks, and that her right eye was clearly already displaying signs of bruising.

He turned back around harshly to face the Unsub at the realisation of what he had done, but back-peddled as soon as saw that the gun was pointed directly between his eyes; the Unsub obviously having expected that kind of reaction.

With one gesture from the part of the Unsub, Spencer walked the rest of distance around the bed, pausing hesitantly when he reached the other side before climbing on to it and lying down.

_Play into his fantasy. _He reminded himself over and over again. The sick mantra rudely interrupted when the Unsub's voice violated his thoughts.

"Put your arm around her."

Spencer looked at him, pausing for just a second before resignedly complying with his demand. Carefully, he turned on his side and shifted closer to the body beside him, placing his arm around Alyson's waist yet watching the Unsub closely the entire time.

He knew that he had fear swimming in his eyes, but he'd be a total moron if he wasn't scared in the current situation. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly when Alyson didn't display a single reaction to what was happening around her. She just continued to stare straight ahead; completely comatose and unresponsive to the arm that now lay around her midsection.

The Unsub nodded once in satisfaction before turning on his heel and walking out the room, the slam of the door and the sound of locks being latched into place following his departure.

Spencer waited a few minutes, hesitant to speak or move should the room be wired or littered with video cameras. He didn't doubt that the Unsub would have implemented some kind of visual feed. He only hoped there would be no auditory feedback either.

Deciding that it was safer to stay as he was, Spencer pulled his head back slightly and whispered into Alyson's ear. "Are you okay?"

When she didn't respond he became increasingly worried, fearful that she was going into shock.

"Alyson?"

When she still did not reply he did something that surprised the both of them. He ran his hand up and down the skin of her arm, hoping that the tactile stimulation would coax her into some semblance of responsiveness. "Aly?"

It worked this time, and she shifted slightly before grunting in indication that she had heard him.

"Are you okay?" He tried again.

"Mmm…" She replied tiredly. "I think so."

"How hard did he hit you? Do you think you have a concussion?"

"No." She replied, ignoring the first part of the question. "I don't have a concussion."

"How do you know?"

"I'm a physiotherapist." Alyson replied simply, the confident lilt to her voice calming Spencer enough to believe her assessment.

He wanted to apologise to her, for not being able to help her earlier, but he knew his guilt was irrational. There was nothing he could have done with a gun pointed to his head, except get himself killed and then Alyson by association.

Still, he felt like he had to say something, but he was cut off when she lay her hand over his and whispered quietly. "It wasn't your fault." Her breathing then evened out as exhaustion overtook her.

He wanted to analyse what she had said, wanted to strip it down, take it apart piece-by-piece and figure out how she had known what he was thinking, supposing that her job required her to work so intimately with people that it was a skill that she had undoubtedly acquired over the years.

He was too tired to dwell on it though; exhausted from the trauma of what both he and Alyson had been put through. Spencer knew he should stay awake. At least one of them had to be alert at all times so that they could be on the offensive, but his body had other ideas.

Before the thought had even been able to fully form in his mind, he was staggering on the precipice of unconsciousness. With one last final push, his eyes closed and his mind slowed. He fell into a dreamless and fitful sleep, too tired to have even moved out of the position that both he and Alyson had been placed in.

**I really hope you all enjoyed this update! :D Let me know what you think!**

**A HUGE thank you to the following people who reviewed: Rebecca1 (You're on the right track! ;) and thanks so much for your lovely review!); LoveReid (Thanks so much for the review and I'm glad you liked the reference); zabica16; jmdernier; KASEY64; silverwyrm; Jamie1991; A1fictiongrl; People Person I'm Not.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the author/story follows, favorites and alerts, and most especially the wonderful reviews. I'm humbled by the overwhelming response to this story! I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I can't be the only one who wished they owned Criminal Minds, but sadly doesn't :'(**

**Day Two**

Flakes of dust danced within the streams of sunlight that managed to filter through the cracks of wood bordering up the room's windows.

Orienting himself before anything else, Spencer opened his eyes and was confronted with the morbid reality that he had been trying to convince himself that he was in a particularly nasty nightmare for the last five minutes.

Carefully, so as not to make any sudden movements, he surveyed the room around him, and realised it looked exactly the way it had the night prior; all due to the planks of wood that were bolted across the windows – inhibiting any and all light from streaming in, thus leaving the inhabitants of the room clueless as to the time of day.

_Another scare tactic. _He mused. Some people would go crazy with the not knowing; becoming completely compliant; exactly what the Unsub wanted.

The tactic wasn't entirely fool-proof, however. The nails that bound the wood to the walls were loose and the wood itself looked like it was beginning to rot, allowing some light to filter through. Clearly someone had put a great deal of effort into trying to remove them, going as far as attempting to force the nails out and even splashing water on the wood to get it to decompose and weaken.

Suddenly the crime scene photos of the victims flashed in his mind, and he wondered which person amongst those pictures was responsible for the decay.

Strangely he began to think of how beautiful the view out of the large window opposite the bed would have been, the sunlight glittering against the windows of the surrounding buildings and casting the already reddened room in a warm, orange hue; but his thoughts were interrupted by a slight shifting of Alyson beside him as she began to wake.

As she came to consciousness, she stiffened slightly when she felt Spencer's arm around her and realised that she was still in the midst of a hell that she was being forced to endure; the young woman yearned to let out a groan at the very notion.

At a loss of what to say, Spencer murmured an unsure, "hey," relieved when she replied with a, "hey," of her own.

There was an awkward silence between the two which was finally broken when Alyson raised a hand to rub at her tired eyes and then hissed in pain when she upset the tender skin which was a result of her assault from the previous night.

"Are you okay?" The young agent asked worriedly.

She sighed before answering. "Yupp. Just not used to having a black eye, can't say I've ever been punched in the face before." Her attempt at a half-joke falling flat as Spencer gave no response.

Silence descended upon the two once again, both deep in thought until Spencer spoke gently. "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

When Alyson didn't reply Spencer thought that she was going to ignore his question, but then she inhaled a shaky breath and briefly recited to him what had happened; about how she had refused to take his cardigan off when the man had demanded that she do, and how she had also refused to get on the bed which had resulted in their captor slapping her and then finally throwing a punch.

He could hear the emotion in her voice as it became thick with the effort of holding back tears, especially when she recounted, verbatim, how he had said that, _"a woman should always be in the house to welcome a man home," _and how scared that thought and its implications had made her.

Although Spencer would never say anything, he was undeniably uncomfortable with the situation, he had always been unsure of how to comfort people, and now he was being faced with a crying woman. He merely lay with his arm around her and hoped that it was enough – he truly felt out of his element.

He waited until it seemed like she had calmed herself down before he next spoke. "Alyson?" He whispered. "I need you to listen carefully okay?" And as uncomfortable as it made him, he shifted impossibly closer to her so that he could whisper directly into her ear, ever fearful of an audio feed and hoping that his actions made it look like he was hugging her for comfort and nothing more.

He felt her stiffen against his movements and continued hastily so that she would understand what his intentions were. "I don't know if he's listening to us, so please don't react." Her muscles did not relax, though she nodded her head minutely in understanding, and for that he was relieved, at least she wasn't moving away or acting out.

"Remember down in the freezer when you asked me how I knew so much about this situation? It's because it's my job to know. I'm an agent with the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI and –" He had to cut himself off in order to pin her down as she startled slightly at the revelation. She realised her mistake as soon as she moved, and so she quickly settled down, mumbling a brief, "sorry," as Spencer loosened his hold.

"I know it's a lot to take in," he continued, "and I'm so sorry you're involved in all of this, but I've been working on this case for a little while and I know that the knowledge I have will benefit us. I have an idea of what he'll do before he does it, and my team is looking for me as we speak. I'm sure they know you're missing by now too. They're the best Alyson, and if we play along for as long as possible I know they'll find us. Do you understand?"

She swallowed thickly, her breathing heavy as she replied. "No. I mean yes, yes I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand what's happening! What's happening here? What does he want?!"

Uncharacteristically, Spencer stroked her arm soothingly in the hopes of quelling her panic and began to explain. "I'll tell you everything I know, and I don't want you to think that I'm being domineering or pretentious in any way, but you need to listen to me and follow my lead, okay?"

"Okay." She acquiesced, and he was pleased to note that it wasn't said in resignation but in determination. She knew that this was his area of expertise; that he wasn't being precocious or arrogant, but that he was genuinely helping her and steering her in the right direction for her own survival. "Tell me everything."

Spencer hesitated, knowing that he needed to tell her everything he knew but also knowing that he had to edit out certain details. Some of the information would be too much for Alyson to bear under the stress of the situation, and he hoped that they wouldn't be held captive long enough for any of those gory details to relate to them in any way.

That in mind, he began to speak. "The man who took us, or Unsub as we call him, is in the midst of a psychotic break. We think that maybe he had a girlfriend or a fiancée who either died or left him, and so he is now kidnapping single people, such as ourselves, of a specific type to bring together in order to take them through a series of firsts of any relationship. In that way, he can relive the relationship he had with his partner as a substitute for mourning the loss and moving on."

"So he moulds us together using a pattern? That's why we have to do what he says?"

"Precisely, so long as we do what he wants we should be fine." It wasn't the exact truth but Alyson didn't need to know that yet. She didn't comment on his use of the word 'should' either.

"He's clever Alyson. He knows that we don't know each other at all and that works in his favour. We've also noticed that he has taken people, specifically the women, based on their academic performance and achievement. You were targeted because you were smart."

"I'm a physiotherapist!" She said in exasperation.

"Don't undermine yourself. Any degree regarding the health sector is challenging and my guess is that you went straight from out of school and into your degree and then graduated top of your class. I'm sure that was no easy feat, considering the fact that you probably worked more than one job at the time to support yourself and that you had no family in Quantico with you to help you."

"How did you –"

"I'm sure you're one of the few in your graduating class who got a job straight out of college and had more than enough job offers than you knew what to do with."

For the first time she turned to look at him, brown eyes wide, incredulous as to the accuracy of his statement.

"I'm a profiler Alyson." He said, answering her unspoken question. "It's my job to study people and their behaviour."

He was surprised to see that she actually looked at him angrily then. "It hardly seems fair." She muttered. "That you know so much about me and I know nothing about you."

"You don't like not being in control, uncertainty and vulnerability scares you –"

"Stop." She hissed before turning back to her side, the fury in her voice enough to have Spencer flushing at his social naivety and looking down in embarrassment; he hadn't even realised he had been upsetting her.

Yet another awkward silence ensued, far longer and far more tense than the ones prior. Carefully Spencer began to withdraw his arm, certain that she wouldn't want him touching her given what had just happened. She shivered at the loss of contact but otherwise said nothing. This was why he avoided conflict with absolutely everything he had. He hated fighting with people, and trying to navigate the social 'do's' and 'do not's' on a normal day was enough to give him a headache; partner that with social conflict and he was absolutely dumbfounded. Thankfully, Alyson saved him from his dilemma.

"I'm sorry." She turned to face him so that he could see that she was sincere. "I know it's not an excuse, but I feel like I'm the only person in this entire situation that doesn't know anything or anyone; yet everyone knows all about me and what's going on and I'm just… lost."

Spencer genuinely felt bad for her. Yes, he was stuck in this situation too, but at least he had an inkling of what was going on, situations like this were a part of his everyday life, but Alyson's life was so far removed from anything like this that she was understandably overwhelmed, devoting all of her energy into trying to maintain her composure and keep her panic at bay.

"You're doing very well Alyson." He said, and he meant it. He had had to deal with far too many bawling and hysterical victims and family members not to.

"Am I?" She asked unsure.

"Yes." He smiled. "You are."

She returned his smile and continued to face him, despite how uncomfortable the position looked to be, given that it was straining her handcuffed arm. He frowned at the painful sight and knew that, for now, there was one last piece of essential information that he had to give.

"Alyson." He said carefully. "There's something else you need to know."

"What?" She whispered cautiously, inching closer to him as she realised the seriousness of what he wanted to say.

"Our captor's a chauvinist –"

She interrupted him by snorting derisively. "Really? What gave that away?" She said sarcastically.

"Alyson, you need to take this seriously. Chauvinism in someone as delusional as him is dangerous – especially for you." She swallowed thickly and let him continue. "Your lack of clothes, him hitting you, the way he insinuated that you as the woman need to be awaiting me in the house when I came home, it stands to reason that the repercussions for you not 'doing as you're told' per say will be far more violent than what they would be for me. Do you understand what I'm saying? He will 'punish' you for not listening to him because in his mind women are subordinate to men."

"So what? I must just do whatever he says no matter how twisted or absurd? I must just let him do whatever he wants to me?! I can't – I can't do this, I'm sorry… I'm not you, I'm not cut out for this, I-"

"Alyson." Spencer said gently but firmly, grasping her hand. "I know this is scary, but remember we're in this together. You're not alone."

Closing her eyes, she nodded quickly and squeezed his hand tighter. "You'll guide me right?" She opened her eyes and looked at him seriously. "I mean, you'll tell me what to do? Let me know if I'm doing something wrong?"

"I'll try my best." He said sincerely, knowing that it would be wrong of him to make a promise that he wasn't absolutely certain he could keep.

It seemed to be enough for her though, and she nodded resolutely before straining her arm against the handcuff and sighing in irritation, she needed to go to the bathroom, _desperately, _and Alyson couldn't help but be both jealous and annoyed at the fact that Spencer wasn't restrained in the same way.

As if sensing her train of thought, Spencer shifted on the bed, daring to get up and investigate the room and see if there was any way he could free his companion from her restraint. Before he had even had the chance to sit up, however, he heard the locks on the outside of the door being shifted and immediately he froze where he was; not wanting to anger the Unsub this early on in the day.

Alyson seemed to be of the same mind, and Spencer had only just managed to whisper at her to "keep calm," before the door slammed open.

The Unsub had his gun pointed firmly at him, and Spencer surmised that one of the past victims must have tried to attack him upon his entrance before, if his aggressive posture was anything to go by. There was a tray of food at his feet, which the Unsub promptly pushed into the room with the tips of his toes, before he himself entered through the door.

He didn't even pause as he made his way towards the bed, looking incensed that Spencer's arm wasn't still around Alyson's waist; the two bodies instinctively squeezing closer together.

"Sir?" The young agent attempted to question, but quickly shut his mouth at the murderous look he received.

The Unsub kept his gun aimed at Spencer while he dug in the pocket of his jeans for the key to the handcuffs. He extracted them with a flourish of his fingers and began to work the lock around Alyson's hand, the young woman gritting her teeth as the skin of her wrist came into contact with the Unsub's own, Spencer squeezing her hand for comfort.

Once the cuffs were undone, the Unsub returned the key to his pocket, giving Alyson and Spencer a parting look, and then turning on his heel and leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind him once again.

The two of them lay there completely stunned, not entirely sure of what had just happened yet relieved all at the same time.

Finally, Alyson turned to Spencer. "I don't want to seem ungrateful or anything, but is it just me or was that completely anti-climactic?"

Spencer couldn't help but quirk his lips up in a half smile at her ill-placed humour. "It was rather strange." He conceded, but then his smile dropped. "That worries me."

They both looked pensive for a moment before Alyson sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing up as she cupped her wrist and began to walk.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked quickly, sitting up as well.

"Going to the bathroom." She said over her shoulder.

"You can't!" Spencer jumped off the side of the bed. "Doing something of your own will might antagonise him."

"So _what," _Alyson began, "we must just lie on that bed the entire day and wait for the next time he comes in here to terrify us?!"

"Well, no –"

"And even if I was that complacent, I hardly think it's a viable option seeing as I haven't been to the bathroom for God near an entire day now!"

Spencer immediately became flustered and uncomfortable, his cheeks flushing slightly before he found himself agreeing with Alyson. He didn't want to antagonise their captor but really, what other choice did they have?

"Okay." He said finally, and Alyson nodded her head firmly before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Hesitantly, he looked over at the food they had been given and was surprised to find two plates sitting on the tray, both filled with what was considered a 'traditional' breakfast: bacon, eggs, and other such commodities. Spencer shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

He heard the bathroom door open and Alyson came to stand beside him, gazing down at the breakfast much like he had. "So, in your expert opinion, how common is that?"

"I wouldn't know." Spencer said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "But it's a positive sign, the fact that he's feeding us so well means that he has no intention of killing us yet."

He mentally slapped himself as soon as the words had left his mouth and he quickly looked at Alyson who had blanched and gone sickeningly pale.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "That was completely insensitive of me. I talk as I think, and I think a lot and-"

"It's okay." Alyson half smiled. "Better I know right?" Spencer swallowed thickly but didn't say anything. "I'd rather know." She said firmly, and he knew that it was her way of telling him not to lie to her for what he thought was her own protection. Now he really did feel bad.

Slowly, she walked and perched herself on the edge of the couch in the centre of the room.

"You should eat something." Spencer said.

"I wouldn't have thought that was a good idea?"

He shook his head. "Poisoning isn't a part of his M.O." When she looked at him in confusion he elaborated. "M.O. is an adjective and is an acronym for 'Method of Operation'. It's derived from the Latin form 'Modus Expeditione', its definition stating that it means what one certain person is most noted for; a certain look, way of doing things or even an attitude."

He nodded happily at the end of his explanation, and Alyson simply looked at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. "It's like… you recited that straight out of the dictionary."

"I did recite it straight out of the dictionary."

She looked surprised, but not incredulous as most people would have been, though like most people she needed to be convinced. "How on earth could you have recited that word-for-word from the dictionary?"

"I have an eidetic memory."

"Is that like a photographic memory?"

"Something like that." Spencer said slightly dismissively, not really wanting to get into the logistics of it. He had decided that there was more than likely no kind of audio feed, given that the Unsub gave no indication that he heard their whispered conversation from earlier; though he didn't want to be callous and simply give away information as well.

"He drugged us to bring us here, what if he drugged the food as well?"

"I don't think he would have drugged the food. This room is entirely secure and it's obvious that this will be where he'll keep us for the duration that we're here, so he doesn't really have any reason to drug us."

Alyson nodded her understanding. "Well okay then." She said as she got off the couch. "But I'm still only eating the toast."

She smiled at him and Spencer couldn't help but smile back, following her lead and nibbling on a piece of toast of his own. He wasn't at all hungry, but he knew he would need to keep his strength up if he was going to endure this ordeal and come out the other side.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he felt uneasy at the Unsub's appearance and sudden disappearance. Though he and the team didn't know exactly what went on when the victims were taken, he knew enough from his years of profiling to know that the Unsub was waiting for something – the question now being what?

He turned the notion around in his head all kinds of ways but he came up empty, quickly becoming frustrated with the fact that he wasn't able to uncover an answer.

Looking to Alyson, he saw that she was as restless as he was. A thought regarding what the Unsub might possibly be spending time planning for struck him, and he briefly wondered if he should tell Alyson to enable her to prepare herself for when the Unsub next made his appearance. He decided against it, however, not even sure if his theory was remotely on the right track and seeing no need in worrying Alyson unnecessarily should he be wrong.

Still, his mind had never failed him before, and he had a feeling that it wasn't failing him now. The only reason someone would need so much time was to do one of two things: either the Unsub was planning something or, he was waiting for something.

Spencer sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair in irritation, aware of the concerned look that Alyson threw his way. He gave a small smile but she wasn't fooled, she knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

He breathed in deeply and tried his best to gather his wits and mentally prepared himself for the turmoil that was sure to come.

**HUGE thank you to the following reviewers for making my day and inspiring me to keep this story going! You guys are awesome and believe me when I say, reviews feed the muse. I'm a shameless review whore, so keep them coming!**

**Songwriterforlife99 (thank you for the compliment!); tennerose5, Jamie1991; hey y'all watch this; R.e.i.d; Guest; thetyger (thank you so much for the compliment!); justiceintheworldofhp-yearight; patsita1; People Person I'm Not ( what do you think ;) hehe); AnAverageGirl15 (Hehe, your wish is my command. I'm also on Season 7, glad you're enjoying it!); Rebecca1 (You're hitting the nail on the head! Hehe, though there will be a little twist later on which I'm hoping you WON'T predict :P lol, because you're good! Damn. Hehe thanks for the review!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**A/N: MASSIVE thank you to the amazing people who reviewed! Thanks also to followers, favorites and alerts!**

**Disclaimer: Anything resembling Criminal Minds belongs to Criminal Minds and its respective owners. Anything else such as the plot and Original Characters, belongs to me.**

**Day Two (Continued)**

Aaron Hotchner was a man of routine. He followed the rules, rigid as they were; he did what was expected of him and he managed his team with the poise and sternness of a Sergeant Major – perhaps with a more elusive, softer side – but he always, _always _followed protocol, which was why he was so frustrated with both himself as well as the team's current case.

He had not been following protocol, and now the case was personal; now, Reid was gone.

The local police chief at the precinct had thought Hotch mad when he had begun barking instructions at just about every person in sight when Reid had not answered his phone.

The young agent was never late, and he had been two hours overdue. He never not answered his phone either, and Hotch's anxiety had only increased tenfold when Morgan had returned from Reid's apartment, a grim look on his face and with information relaying that there had been a struggle – one identical to the struggle that the other male victims in their current case had had to endure.

Hotch was overwhelmingly frustrated that none of them had been able to see the connection before. Reid fit the profile to a T. He was intelligent, had been to University – multiple times – was in his twenties, lived alone, had a stable financial income – albeit tight at times – he lived in Quantico and… he was _unattached._

The Unit Chief figured that they would have made the connection sooner, but they hadn't followed protocol, and Reid had never considered himself potent enough to catch the eye of the Unsub… typical.

They had been so desperate to catch the killer that they had bypassed interviewing the victims' families, simply because the victims' families, if they had any family at all, were either unreachable, or too far away to make a personal interview viable.

That had been an error in judgement, a breach of protocol, and it would _not _happen again.

Hotch understood that perhaps he was being a little hard on himself. They had, after all, only been on the case for a few days, and they had made great leeway in that short amount of time. They had visited all the dump sites, as well as gained and studied the autopsy reports of all the victims, finding various connections.

Garcia had also been attempting to do background checks on all of the victims, however, it appeared that once the victims were taken, any and all information regarding their lives before their abductions simply disappeared. Her searches simply came up blank and she was beginning to get, understandably, frustrated. Garcia was confident that it was a self-made program barring any external viewers to access the information, and though she hadn't found anything yet, Hotch knew that it was only a matter of time.

Reid had been unable to complete his geographical profile, but Hotch was confident that the rest of his team would be able to fill in the gaps and get their youngest home safely. They did have the added threat of Reid's life hanging in the balance, after all.

With that last thought resonating within his head, Hotch's cell phone rang and he promptly answered it, seeing that it was Garcia.

"Sir, I found something that is both enlightening as well as disturbing."

"What is it Garcia?"

"Well we've already established that our man is sick, like, mentally coo coo sick, as in I have never in my life experienced –"

"Garcia…"

"Right, sorry Sir. So I did a little digging and found a connection in the most unlikeliest of places."

"Where?" Hotch asked, intrigued now.

"Another case."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me right Sir, I found a connection in another case. Work with me here. Remember we were informed of the house bombings in and around the Quantico area right before we were assigned this case?"

"Yes. We weren't able to work that case because this one was considered a higher priority."

"Well it just so happens that the two cases are the same."

"What are you saying Garcia?" Hotch was beginning to get frustrated with her elusiveness.

"What I'm saying Sir, is that I phoned up the individual landlords or realtors of each of the houses that were bombed with a theory… and found that each house actually belonged to the female victims of our current case. The bombings occurred shortly after their abductions."

"So he's abducting them and then destroying their homes?"

"Yes Sir."

"But none of the male victims homes have been destroyed?"

"None that have been recorded Sir."

That didn't make sense, unless…

"There's one more thing Sir. I think I know who the most recent female victim is."

"How could you know that?"

"A young woman's apartment in Quantico was bombed yesterday evening."

"The name Garcia?"

"Alyson Roberts."

O-O-O-O-O

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked out of the blue.

Alyson looked up at him quickly from where she was perched on the couch, releasing her thumbnail from her mouth.

"Fine." She replied tersely.

Spencer frowned at her, easily seeing through the lie. "You don't look fine."

"That's because I was abducted from my home yesterday, stripped, beaten and imprisoned in a maddeningly cabaret hotel room with someone I don't even know." She snapped at Spencer harshly, immediately putting her face in her hands once she had completed her tirade.

She felt childish at her rude outburst, especially since Spencer had done nothing but try to help her and be as kind to her as he possibly could throughout their entire stay in the hotel.

"Sorry." She mumbled eventually, looking up to see the hurt and dejected look on Spencer's face.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. You've been nothing but nice and helpful to me since we got here and I keep snapping at you. I really do apologise for it, and I know it's no excuse, but it's just that all this waiting has me so antsy."

The young agent nodded his head in understanding, running his hands through his shoulder-length hair in agitation; he knew exactly what Alyson meant. Aside from the breakfast that had been delivered to them that morning, the Unsub had made no further appearances, and Spencer could tell from the way the light slanted through the cracks of the wood that the sun was beginning to set. They had been sitting in that hotel room and waiting the entire day for something to happen. He'd be lying if he denied that he too, was on edge.

There was absolutely nothing worse than knowing that an Unsub was waiting… biding his time and planning. The very notion made him feel sick.

"That's not all that's worrying you though, is it?" Spencer finally asked.

Alyson looked up at him startled and he couldn't help but quirk a smile. "Profiler." He said in way of answer.

She looked disgruntled at that but sighed and nodded her head resolutely. "I'm worried."

He moved to stand in front of her, stopping his pacing so that he could appraise her with his undivided attention. "About?"

"My dog."

It was his turn to look startled now. "Of all the things to be worrying about right now, you're worrying about your dog?"

"Of course." She said, her brown eyes glowing as if it was the most obvious thing to be worrying about given their situation. "I live alone, and I don't have any family in Quantico. He's all alone in my apartment and hasn't been fed since yesterday."

Spencer felt his stomach drop at her revelation and his gut filled with dread. He knew what happened to the homes of the female victims. He'd actually realised as much as he sat thinking on his train ride home the day before, connecting the names of the home owners to the names of the female victims. He was going to call Garcia to cross-check his findings right after he'd made himself his cup of coffee when he'd arrived home…

"What is it?" Alyson asked anxiously, noticing the frown lines that had appeared on his brow.

"Nothing!" He replied quickly, his voice pitchy, revealing his lie.

Alyson narrowed her eyes at him, knowing that something wasn't right.

"I-I'm sure your dog is fine! It's like I said, someone's probably already noticed that you're missing and I'm sure your landlord will take care of him for you."

How else was he supposed to tell her that her dog was surely dead? Along with her entire apartment and the rest of her belongings? Her livelihood? Spencer felt terrible for lying, but revealing this information to Alyson now would do nothing to help them in their current predicament. No, it would only serve to complicate things profusely.

Alyson breathed out a shaky breath and nodded her head, acquiescing. "You're right." She smiled and looked up at him. "Thank you, you always know what to say."

He couldn't find it within himself to respond, guilt welling up within him like a damn on the verge of an overflow.

Thankfully, he was saved from answering her by the sound of the locks on the door clicking out of place. Quickly, Spencer moved from where he was standing, and managed to place himself so that he was standing in front of Alyson before the door swung open.

Instantly, the muzzle of the Unsub's gun found its way to Spencer's head. Cold, impassive eyes watched his target, checking that the young agent would make no move to attack, before he bent down, gun studiously trained between Spencer's eyes, and picked up a plastic bag that lay at his feet. He then walked into the room and threw the bag into the bathroom as he made his way towards Spencer and Alyson.

"Move." He demanded at the young agent, his eyes narrowing when Spencer made no attempt to do so.

The Unsub scowled and cocked his gun threateningly. "_Move_." He hissed more forcefully this time, and the venom in his voice was enough to have Alyson rising from where she was seated on the couch, making to stand next to Spencer, fearful that the psychotic man would actually pull the trigger.

"You." He turned his gaze to Alyson. "Change in the bathroom, now."

"Why?" She questioned, and flinched back instinctively as he took a threatening step forwards, Spencer's arm coming up in an attempt to push Alyson behind him. The Unsub halted his movements and his mouth stretched into terrifying smile at the motion. Spencer felt Alyson shiver beside him, and he could only just supress himself from doing the same.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, and the man demanded that Alyson go to the bathroom and change that very instant. She was petrified of leaving Spencer, not wanting to be on her own and not wanting to leave him alone with the sadistic man and his gun, but he continued to wave the weapon around threateningly and she realised that, really, she had no other choice.

Hesitantly, she stepped around Spencer, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she walked past the burly man and into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

For some reason, the tension in the room was far thicker once Alyson had left the two men alone than when she had been present. They both stared into the other's eyes challengingly, Spencer burying his hands in his pockets in what he hoped looked to be an act of nonchalance. The Unsub didn't move his gun from where it was aimed for a single second, and Spencer found himself caving and eventually looking away under the heated, expressionless gaze of the twisted man before him.

The young agent cocked his head to the side, studying the wall before him yet watching the Unsub through the corner of his eye. His shoulders were taught with tension, and as much as it pained him to think it, he wished that Alyson would hurry up so that he wouldn't have to be alone with the man anymore.

He reprimanded himself almost as soon as he thought it, realising that that would mean that Alyson would be putting herself in danger.

As if sensing that his thoughts had turned to her, the bathroom door opened and Alyson stepped out, looking relieved but uncomfortable all at the same time.

On closer inspection, Spencer realised why. She was wearing the clothes that the Unsub had brought for her in the plastic bag, and whilst she was undoubtedly relieved at no longer being dressed in only her underwear, the clothes were not her own, and her discomfort regarding the fact showed.

She was dressed simply, with fitted jeans and a short-sleeved floral shirt, simple black converse shoes on her feet. Though the outfit wasn't spectacular by any stretch, it fitted her snugly and complimented her figure. Everything about it screamed feminine; and that combined with the fact that the clothing size was chosen so accurately was so out of character regarding the Unsub's profile that Spencer narrowed his eyes in confusion.

It was… strange…

The Unsub seemed to nod his approval before he gestured for Alyson to stand beside Spencer once again. She did as she was bid, standing closer to him than was strictly necessary, eyeing him briefly before turning her gaze back to the towering man with the gun, awaiting further instructions.

"Introduce yourself." He said, neither Spencer nor Alyson certain to whom he was addressing.

"W-what?" She stuttered before she could help herself.

"Introduce yourself!"

"But," she began, not noticing Spencer's panicked look of warning, "You took me! Surely you know who I am!"

"Not to me, to him." He spat, waving the gun in Spencer's direction.

Alyson looked from the Unsub to Spencer and then back again, her face genuinely contorted into that of confusion. "I've introduced myself already. He knows who I am."

"Alyson…" Spencer tried to warn, but he stopped short as he began to panic when the Unsub took menacing yet purposeful steps towards her.

"I'm Spencer Reid!" Spencer half yelled, thrusting his hand out to Alyson and forcing her to take it.

Spencer didn't see her dumbfounded expression as she looked at her hand engulfed in his own and then up to his face, trying to read what on earth was going on. The young agent was too focused on watching the Unsub, relieved that he had stopped his journey and was looking at them in satisfaction.

Spencer looked back to Alyson meaningfully and she knew what he was asking her to do. "A-Alyson." She said. "Alyson Roberts." Her voice cracking slightly as her eyes glistened.

"It's nice to meet you Alyson." Spencer said as he forced a smile, shaking her hand before letting it go.

Alyson forced a smile back, completely unsure of herself and having no idea what on earth she was supposed to do. Maybe she would have an idea if she knew what was happening.

Spencer saw the confusion as it danced in her eyes and he yearned to tell her what he knew, what he had just come to realise. This man, this burly, thick and intimidating man was trying to emulate her and Spencer's 'first meeting'; the thing that brings two strangers together and begins their eventual relationship as a couple.

The young agent looked to the intimidating man, seeing that he was growing impatient with the fact that no one was talking. He turned back to Alyson and swallowed thickly. Maybe he'd be better at emulating a first meeting if he'd actually ever had one; it was common knowledge that picking up girls was _not _his forte.

"Do you… uh… do you come here often?" Spencer asked hesitantly.

Alyson's mouth dropped open in shock and she glared at him angrily. "Do I come here often? Do I come here often?! Do you mean before or after some lunatic drugs and kidnaps me?!"

"Alyson…" Spencer began, reaching for her arm.

"No Spencer! What the hell is going on? What _is _this?! Do I come here often? Really? Of course I don't! I –"

She was cut off as a harsh slap was delivered to the side of her face, her head snapping to the side with the force of it. Spencer jumped in shock, not even having seen the Unsub approach them because he was consumed in Alyson's tirade.

He was surprised when she recovered quickly, her hand coming to rest against her cheek as she hastily tried to blink away the pain. She was staring at the ground when she finally answered. "Yes I come here often; every day after work."

The lie fell from her lips so quickly that she didn't even have time register what it was that she was saying. Finally, she looked up at Spencer and saw his lips moving, trying her hardest to hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"After work? What do you do?"

"I'm a physiotherapist."

"A physiotherapist? That's interesting."

"Sure it is." She snapped, but she was quick to rectify her mistake when she saw the burly man frown at her. "What do you do?" She asked quickly.

Sensing an opportunity to find out once and for all if the room was wired with an audio feed, Spencer answered Alyson's question."

"I'm a real estate agent."

"DON'T LIE TO HER!" The Unsub interjected angrily, causing both Alyson and Spencer to startle at the volume of his voice.

"I'm not lying –"

"Yes you are! You're a profiler who works for the FBI!" Looking at Spencer as his eyes widened the man continued. "What? You think just because you have three PhD's that you're better than everyone else? Smarter than everyone else?!"

Spencer had never once mentioned to Alyson that he had three doctorates and so he knew that there was no audio feed, however, the fact that the Unsub knew so much about them was disturbing, it meant that he had done his research well, very well…

"The FBI huh?" Alyson asked nervously. "That's really uncommon."

Spencer, who was completely rattled by this point, began to do the only thing he knew how to do in tense and potentially harmful situations. "Yes it is uncommon. As of this year, the FBI has a total of 33,590 employees. That includes 13,514 special agents and 20,076 support professionals such as intelligence analysts, language specialists, information technology specialists, and other professionals. Also, our workforce includes 15,135 women, 8,110 minorities, and 1,201 persons with disabilities and –"

"ENOUGH!" The Unsub bellowed, tiring of the situation and wanting to move things along. He turned to Spencer and spoke "Ask to see her again."

Alyson saw Spencer close his eyes and inhale a shaky breath, collecting himself before he opened them and looked at her once again. "Y-you know, if you're really interested, we could… um… we could go out… sometime… and I – uh, I could tell you… more?"

The way his heart was pounding Spencer could have sworn that he was literally inside the coffee shop he was envisioning and asking Alyson out for real. He wasn't entirely sure that his adrenaline rush was solely due to the fact that an Unsub had a gun pointed to his face, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Even though he wasn't in his comfort zone, however, Spencer tried his best to communicate to Alyson with his eyes that she was to reply with a 'yes'.

Unfortunately for him, she had officially had enough of the situation. "If going out with you means that I have to spend another second trapped in this freakish room then I'll pass, _thanks._"

Ouch. Even though he knew that none of this was strictly 'real', Spencer wouldn't deny that the rejection still stung.

He didn't have time to think much on it though; because no sooner had the words left Alyson's mouth did the Unsub's composure finally crack.

He turned his gun from where it had been trained on Spencer and pointed it at her, closing the distance between the two of them until the muzzle finally came to rest against her temple. She inhaled a sharp breath and the silent tears finally streamed from her eyes.

"That's not the right answer." The Unsub said finally.

She looked at Spencer and he frowned sympathetically at the pure terror in her eyes. He didn't know why but he felt responsible for her for some reason; and the fact that she had been unprepared to deal with this situation fell squarely on his shoulders. He promised himself right in that moment that he would open up to her more, tell her everything she wanted to know no matter how badly he thought it would impact her.

"I-I w-would love t-that." She choked out.

"Okay." Spencer said softly. "Can I get your number?"

"S-sure. I don't have anything to write it down?"

"That's okay. I'll remember." He said gently, smiling at her encouragingly. He was surprised when she genuinely seemed to smile back.

"555-0923."

"Thank you Alyson. I'll call you and we can arrange to meet up soon."

"Okay."

She looked down at the floor, breathing heavily under the threat of the gun still pressed to her head. Spencer tore his eyes away from her and looked at the Unsub expectantly. He found it strange that the man had such a rigid script regarding how this encounter was supposed to go, seeing as he had seemed somewhat aloof during their prior meetings…

The man appeared to be debating whether he found the outcome of their 'meeting' to be satisfactory or not. Ultimately, he decided that it was, and he removed the gun from Alyson's head before turning on his heel and leaving the room – his eyes ever watchful of Spencer the entire time.

Neither Spencer nor Alyson moved as he departed, and it was only once the door slammed shut behind him that anything of consequence happened.

Immediately after the harsh sound of the door hitting its frame sounded in the room Alyson broke down. Her hands flew up to her head where she buried her face within them and she began to sob; terrible, pained cries that spoke only of fear and desolation.

Without even thinking about it, Spencer closed the gap between them in two quick, powerful strides and wrapped his arms around her, one arm winding itself around her waist while the other lay firm against her back, his hand burying itself in her hair to caress it soothingly.

It didn't even register to him how uncharacteristic the action was, it had just been an instinctual response to Alyson's distress. He had been in life-threatening situations before, he knew what it was like to fear that you wouldn't make it out on the other side, and he knew that possibly for the first time in her entire life, Alyson felt that fear when that gun had come to rest against her head.

She moved her hands from her face and clutched at his shirt, engulfing every ounce of comfort that he could find within himself to give.

Carefully, she moved her arms beneath his own and clutched at his shoulder blades, hugging him back as her sobs began to quieten down. He rest his cheek against her head and the two simply stood there, finding comfort amidst the horror and wishing that they could do more than merely hold each other.

For now though, Spencer hoped that it was enough.

**I really hope that Alyson isn't coming off as annoying or snooty. I DON'T want her to be a Mary-Sue. I've never written an OC before and that combined with the fact that this is my first ever case-fic is posing quite the challenge lol, so please let me know what you think!**

**People Person I'm Not: ****I actually didn't know what M.O. stood for until I looked it up :O glad it was accurate and thank you for the review!**

**Rebecca1: ****Thank you so much for review! They're always so nice and long and I love hearing what you think :P Hehe, don't worry, I plan on Reid telling her more about himself next chapter because I totally agree with you ;) I'm also glad you think I'm revealing just the right amount of information because it's something I'm struggling with!**

**Ripon: ****Wow thank you so much for your review! It was so nice and I'm really so happy to hear that you like the dialogue and believe it's realistic. Characterisation is very important to me. I hope you enjoy this update!**

**Thetyger: ****Wow, the amount I'm blushing right now :P hehe, *hugs* Thank you so much for both your review and the compliments! I'm so happy you're enjoying it and like reid and Alyson together, I hope she didn't annoy you too much in this chapter :P**

**Jamie1991: ****Thank you for the review! I'm glad you liked that about Alyson, hopefully she didn't frustrate you in this chapter and that you enjoyed the update.**

**AnAverageGirl15: ****I'm so SO happy I could make your day better. Urgh, you don't need to tell me the woes of college. I'm going into my third year next year and I just… don't even want to think about it :'( but I hope your quiz, exam etc etc went well! Thank you so much for the review and I really do hope you enjoy this update!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**A/N: HUGE apologies for the long delay in updating, I went overseas for the festive season and tried to update before I left, but had serious writer's block. Thank you so very much to everyone who favorited, alerted and most importantly reviewed. It means the world and I can safely promise regular updates from here on out. Hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!**

**Day Two (Continued)**

It felt like hours had passed since he had wrapped his arms around Alyson, and longer still since she had reciprocated the action and hadn't let go.

Alyson allowed herself the gift of sobbing out her fear and eventually, after much time had passed, she began to quieten down, hiccoughing occasionally while Spencer rubbed her back soothingly.

Slowly, she loosened the hold that she had on him and looked up to his face, her dark brown eyes meeting his lighter ones.

"You lied to me." She said simply, and though Spencer certainly didn't have much experience with women, he knew enough to know that he had just entered an incredibly volatile situation.

"No I didn't." He replied quickly, knowing that he hadn't technically uttered a single word to her that wasn't the truth.

"You withheld information from me. That constitutes as lying in my book."

"Look, Alyson, I –"

Suddenly she swung her arms around and pushed him in the chest, he stumbled back slightly but not by much – there wasn't any real force or violence behind the gesture.

"Three PhD'S?! Seriously a triple doctorate? An eidetic memory? You can't be more than twenty-six years old! You didn't think that maybe that was worth mentioning when I told you I was a physiotherapist? You know, when we were talking about careers and university and all of that?"

He looked at her sheepishly, unsure of how to respond, though Alyson wouldn't have given him the opportunity had he wanted to.

"'Don't undermine yourself Alyson'." She quoted him mockingly. "'You're smart Alyson'." Her impersonation was startlingly accurate when she took on his deeper tone of voice and mimicked his posture. "Never mind that you're _clearly_ smarter than me. Combine that with the fact that you work for the FBI… I mean what are you? Some kind of genius or something?"

Although she had said it in a way that implied that the very idea was absurd, the young woman stopped and stared at Spencer in expectation when he grew wearily silent.

"I… well yes actually."

Alyson gaped at him for a short while before crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Explain?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187, and although I believe intelligence cannot truly be quantified in such black and white terms, that number is quite obviously high above the norm. I have an eidetic memory which aids my learning, and I can also read 20 000 words per minute."

She wasn't entirely sure as to when her mouth had dropped open, but she realised that sometime during his speech it had. "That is…" Spencer eyed her cautiously, waiting for the shocked outburst or never-ending stream of stupid questions that always followed his confession, "… highly impressive."

"What?"

"You heard me. What do you have PhD's in?"

"Oh, uh… engineering, mathematics and chemistry."

Alyson's eyes seemed to sparkle then. She uncrossed her arms and puffed out a heavy breath, smiling as she did so. "Wow."

"Wow?" Spencer squeaked in confusion.

"Yes wow! I really wish I had your skill! Truth be told I actually wanted to study medicine, but I'm not a numbers person, so the maths and chemistry associated with it didn't really make it an option; we had to do a bit of it for physio, and even then I struggled." She shook her sadly. "But anyway, I'm happy with what I've chosen so I guess things have a way of working themselves out in the end."

He smiled back at her, surprised that she was revealing so much of herself, not just because he was still somewhat of a stranger to her, but also because of everything that had happened.

As if sensing the direction in which his thoughts were headed, Alyson breathed in sharply before she next spoke. "You need to explain to me what just happened with that man. I don't care how stupid this makes me, but I had _no _idea what was going on and I don't want that to happen again. I want to know what to expect the next time he walks through that door."

Spencer thought carefully before he next spoke. "You're not stupid Alyson. I didn't inform you enough, and that's my fault." He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Do you want to sit down?"

She looked at him for a moment before acquiescing, sensing that she was about to engage in a conversation that was of the utmost importance. Alyson moved towards the couch, Spencer following behind her, before they both sat down on its red velvet surface. The young woman crinkled her nose in distaste at the choice of fabric and Spencer allowed himself a brief moment to smile at her antics, until the reality of what he had to tell her came crashing down on him. He lent forwards and placed his elbows on his knees, his palms coming up to cup his face over the bridge of his nose while he gazed at the wall ahead unseeingly; he truly felt as if he had the weight of the world resting upon his skinny shoulders.

Alyson looked to him expectantly, her interested face quickly turning into a mask of concern when she saw the distress that clearly dominated his features. "Why do I get the feeling that what you're about to tell me is all kinds of terrible?"

"Because you have a good intuition;" Spencer said, sitting up and turning his head to appraise her, "and your intuition would be correct."

She gulped audibly at his statement yet continued to look at him, even though a clear sheen of fear flashed across her eyes.

"Alyson… this situation we're in, it's not good." Spencer said seriously.

The young woman nodded her head slowly in understanding, inhaling a shaky breath before she whispered. "How bad is 'not good'?"

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose before running his hands over his face tiredly, tortured that he had to be the one to deliver this kind of information to Alyson. "It's bad. Our team only ever gets invited to join cases that are high risk and of dire seriousness. The Unsubs are often psychologically complex, and uncovering the motives for their crimes is an arduous and tedious task. We have to analyse the crime scenes, autopsy reports, interview victims, analyse geographic profiles, not to mention the fact that we have to ensure that all of that fits into a certifiable and unique M.O. Actually, if you wanted to look at it statistically, the number of times we –"

"Spencer." Alyson cut in, grasping his arm gently. "What does that mean for us?"

Briefly, the young agent marvelled at how easily she had drawn him out of his ramble and set him back on track. It was something most people weren't able to do, and she had done it in such an unassuming and _gracious _manner that he smiled at her, grateful for the respect that she displayed towards him.

Hesitantly, he placed his hand on top of hers, hoping that the uncharacteristic gesture would soften the blow of what he was about to say. "We were invited onto this case due to the staggering body count and lack of certifiable leads."

Alyson closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying her utmost best to compose herself and keep her emotions at bay. Finally, she opened her eyes, and Spencer was dismayed to see that she hadn't quite managed to control the onslaught of unbidden tears. "So what you're saying, all of it in a nutshell, is that no one has actually survived this guy before? You know, made it out alive?"

He so desperately wanted to lie to her, to tell her some false truth and give her a tiny sliver of hope; but he couldn't; because the fact of the matter was that she needed to know the truth. She needed to be prepared for what was to come so that they wouldn't suffer the same fate as all the other victims, so that they _would _be able to make it out alive.

"No Alyson, they didn't."

"But – I, that's… how many were there? The couples? How many couples have there been before us?"

"Aly." Spencer said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "You need to calm down." Truthfully Spencer was simply buying himself some time. He'd conceded to telling Alyson the truth and absolutely nothing but the truth, but the body count had been unbelievable; revealing the exact number to Alyson this early on in their captivity would only serve to unnerve her further, and he needed to prepare her for the Unsub's next appearance, that was the most quintessential conversation that they needed to have, for there was no telling when he would return.

"Aly." He repeated once again, gaining her attention. "I don't want to get into the specifics of it right now –"

"No Spencer, don't withhold information from me, I can handle it, I want to know and –"

"It's not a matter of withholding information Alyson, it's just that right now we need to prepare for what we're going to do for when he comes back, whenever that may be. I won't make the same mistake of ill-informing you like I did last time."

Seeing the sense in what he was saying Alyson nodded her head slowly at the young agent, making a mental note to ask him about the specifics of the case at a later stage. She was determined to know everything there was to know about the situation she was in, and she refused to let Spencer withhold anything from her simply because he thought that she couldn't take it. He was off the hook… but only for the moment.

"Okay." She acquiesced. "Tell me what I need to know."

He nodded at her determinedly before he next spoke. "Remember I told you that he took the couples through a series of firsts? You know, a series of firsts in any relationship?"

"Yes, because he likely lost his partner and wants to relive what he had with them through us."

Spencer smiled at her, happy that she remembered. "Exactly. So what happened just now, when he made us introduce ourselves, was him making us emulate a couple's 'first meeting'. You know, when two people meet each other for the first time, marking the beginning of the relationship."

Alyson's eyes widened in understanding and her mouth opened to take on the shape of a small 'O'. Her expression quickly turned dismayed and she collapsed her head into her hands. "I'm such an idiot." She said flatly. "Really, I am. It was so _obvious _how could I have missed it?!"

Spencer strengthened the hold he had on her hand, squashing any qualms of discomfort he had at the unfamiliar tactile contact in favour of comforting his clearly distressed companion. "It's not your fault Alyson." He said sincerely. "You were under duress. Truthfully, I probably would have worried about your state of mind and your sanity _had _you appeared calm and collected."

The young woman looked up at him quickly and smiled upon seeing the slight quirk of his lips. "Was that a joke Doctor Reid?" She asked in mock seriousness.

"It was my attempt at a joke, yes."

She chuckled at him and was happy to note that she actually felt a little bit better. "It was a good joke."

Alyson had to hold herself back from chuckling again when he ducked his head sheepishly as a faint, pink blush tinged his cheeks. Clearly he was embarrassed, and she didn't want to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already was.

The young woman felt a slight fluttering in her chest at the sight, but promptly pushed it aside to focus instead on the task at hand. "So what can we expect from him this time?"

Spencer recovered quickly, his professionalism shining through as he was being questioned on his area of expertise. "I can't be entirely sure, but my best guess would be that he would make us emulate the 'first date'."

"That makes sense." Alyson said. "He did make you ask to see me again and have me give you my number, it seems like the logical next step; though I wouldn't really know."

Alyson startled as she realised what she had just said, she hadn't meant to reveal so much of herself, and it was her turn to flush in embarrassment as she thought of the implications of what she had said and how Spencer would judge her based on them.

"W-what?" He asked, seemingly as startled as she was. "You wouldn't know?"

The young woman could have sworn that her face would burst due to the onslaught of colouration. This had always been a sensitive topic for her, but yes, at 22 years of age, Alyson Roberts had yet to actually go on a first date.

"You've never dated anyone?" Spencer asked incredulously, more out of disbelief and for clarification than for anything else.

Alyson's head snapped up defensively so that her eyes could fiercely meet his own. "No Mister Handsome, I know it's hard to believe but some of us actually haven't dated before."

"I…" Spencer started, confused as to what she was insinuating. "I… what?"

"Oh my word, don't make me say it! This is humiliating enough as it is!"

Spencer stared at the tiny woman then, with absolutely nothing short of fear in his hazel eyes. Exactly what was she implying? Was she mocking his appearance by calling him that name?

Alyson, however, continued on, completely unaware to the effect that her tirade was having on the FBI agent.

"Look I'm sorry, but this is why I'm not cut out for this. I'm sorry you got stuck with me; the romantically incompetent and severely lacking physiotherapist; but I'm a fast learner. If you just tell me what is ordinarily done and discussed on a first date I'm sure I'll be more than able to act the part you know? I'm sure you have a boatload of occasions to draw from, so take your pick. Tell me what to do."

Spencer gaped at her, open-mouthed and completely unsure of what he should say. It was a rare occasion where Spencer Reid was left speechless, but it was known to happen, and this was most certainly one of those occasions. "I…" He started. "I… wouldn't know either."

Alyson's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

His face took on the same red hue as hers had and he tried his best to explain. "I haven't dated anyone either."

She stared at him in complete disbelief and then started laughing out her denial. "Oh so we're back to the jokes now, I'm glad you find my lack of experience so humorous."

"I'm not joking." He deadpanned, and it was the combination of both his tone and his expression that sobered the young woman.

She looked at him suspiciously before she next spoke. "You're being serious? You haven't dated before?" Resolutely, Spencer shook his head and her eyes widened. "But… but that's absurd!"

It was Spencer's turn to furrow his eyebrows in confusion, though he found that there was a slight undertone of anger behind the gesture. Why was it okay for her to have never dated anyone, yet it wasn't for him?

"Why?" He asked harshly.

"Because you're a total catch!" Alyson all but yelled, completely missing the hard edge through which he had asked the question. "I mean look at you!" She exclaimed, releasing his hand so that she could gesture to him with her own. "You're attractive, hold a steady and impressive job, you're a gentleman and _clearly _you're smart. That's every box on every girl's check-list ticked off."

"I don't think most girls want 'social incompetence' ticked off on their check-lists." He said desolately, though he wouldn't deny that his skin tingled in response to what Alyson had said. He knew that he was by no means repulsive, but he _never _would have considered himself attractive, and to know that Alyson thought of him as such was both enlightening and uplifting.

Alyson snorted at him. "You're not socially incompetent; you're holding a perfectly normal conversation with me right now."

If Spencer allowed himself to think about it, he realised that she was right, but she hadn't known him long enough or seen him in a number of different social situations to understand just how socially inept he truly was, and though he knew it was probably wrong he wasn't going to inform her of that, because he found that for once in his life he actually liked the opinion that a relative stranger had formed of him, and he'd be damned if he said anything to ruin that; selfishly motivated or not. Why he cared so much about what Alyson thought about him, he did not know, but he didn't want to jeopardise the opinion she had formed, not when it was so clearly _in _his favour.

"Look." Spencer said, snapping himself out of his stupor. "Neither of us know how this goes, but I'm sure we can guess. I know that if I was interested in a person, enough to want to see them again, then I would want to know as much about them as I possibly could."

"Right." Alyson agreed, seeing the sense in what Spencer was saying.

"So my guess is that he'll put us in a situation where we will be required to talk to each other. You know, tell each other about our lives, our pasts, our goals for the future, our likes, dislikes, things like that. The best plan of action regarding that is to stick to the truth, it's clear he's done his research on us, he'll know if we're lying, so it will only serve to anger him and endanger us if we do."

"Okay. No lying, stick to the truth, follow your lead." When Spencer looked at her in confusion she shrugged and elaborated. "You're the expert on human and criminal behaviour, if I say something wrong or if he does something and I'm not sure how to react I'm hoping you'll be able to help me out."

Spencer nodded uneasily. "I'll try my best." He said, though he made no promises.

"That's all I could ever ask of you."

They smiled at each other, and even though Spencer felt that he might crumble under the weight of her trust, he found that it was a burden that he didn't entirely mind carrying.

"Spencer?" Alyson asked tentatively. "Promise me that when the time's right that you'll tell me all that I need to know; that you won't keep things from me because you're afraid of how I might react, or how it would affect me. Promise me that you'll tell me everything you know about this case and won't keep secrets for my sake."

She was so sincere, so determined and so certain that this was what she wanted. She looked to him with both admiration and determination in her eyes, and he realised that when she displayed that rare combination of fierceness and helplessness, he was powerless to deny her anything. He was powerless to say no.

"I promise." He said, even though he had no intention of telling her about the Unsub's endgame, even though he knew that, eventually, it would all blow up in his face; crumbling around him into thin flakes of dust, until neither he nor Alyson would be able to breathe anymore, and the world around them would cease to exist, unrecognisable to their eventually tortured and unseeing eyes.

**Once again, apologies for the delay in updating, I'm already working on the next chapter and expect it to be up this week! Their first date, oh my O_O. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me, expect updates AT LEAST once a week. (My goal though is twice a week until I return to Uni next month).**

**People Person I'm Not: ****Yay! I'm so happy you don't think she's Mary-Sue, and I'm glad you enjoyed the interaction! Thanks for the review!**

**Thetyger: ****Thank you so much! Now that I'm back from holiday I'm going to have a serious sit down with this story and plan it so that I have all my facts right! Haha, I hate plot holes and I want the team to solve it realistically. Thank you so much for the review!**

**Rebecca1: ****I LOVE your reviews! Lol, seriously, they make me smile because you're so sharp and you're asking all the right questions :D hehe, you're picking up on the details that I've put in and I love that :D All questions shall be answered I promise! I'm having a good sit down and planning this story out because I want to answer all the questions and make sure the pieces fit perfectly. Thank you for the review!**

**Ripon: ****YAY! I'm SO glad to hear you say that! That just made my day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't worry, she will be feisty next chapter too ;) I'm not sure if what I have planned will be received well, but it's too tempting not to write :P Thank you for the review!**

**Tannerose5: ****Thank you so much for the review! Hehe, yupp, I love Garcia! Hopefully you liked how Reid let her in on a bit more info this time around.**

**Jamie1991: ****I'm glad you like Alyson, I just figure that I'd be as clueless if I was in that situation. Hmm… future couple ;) haha, thank you so much for the review!**

**Marcallie: ****RIGHT! I was hoping the readers would think the same thing, because he is just so adorably awkward, but becomes such a badass when under duress, that's why I really just want to give him the opportunity to take control here because he's WAY too passive and helpless in FAR too many fics. Thank you for the review!**

**AnAverageGirl15: ****How did finals go? Oh my word, write your crim story write! Haha, I'm sorry I took so long to update O_O but I'm back! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think the next one will be more exciting though! Thank you for the review!**

**Amorah Shaow: ****Thank you so much for the review, I definitely will, and I plan to update a lot faster now that I'm back from holiday! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**A/N: It's a whopper. Took the whole day to write but I promised you a second update this week! I wonder what you'll think of it… ENJOY!**

**Day Three**

By the time Alyson and Spencer had finished discussing what would possibly happen on their 'first date', thin streams of sunlight had already begun to filter through the cracks of the wooden slats bordered across the window.

Spencer found it strange that the Unsub always waited until the evenings for anything of consequence to happen, and with it clearly only being morning now, the young agent made a mental note to analyse this information at a later stage to see if his theory was, indeed, correct.

Neither person wanted to sleep, the vulnerability in closing their eyes and losing consciousness in such a volatile and unsafe situation prompting them to stay awake for as long as possible. However, even with this motivation behind their actions, it wasn't long before Alyson finally succumbed to her exhaustion, falling into a fitful sleep on the couch. Spencer, who had somehow managed to end up on the floor during one of his more lengthy explanations, tilted his head back in a moment of pure tiredness, and ended up falling asleep before his head had even been able to touch the cushion of the couch.

The rest of the day passed with neither the young agent nor the young woman even realising it. The shadows morphed and fused with the furniture with the changing sun, until it had finally set altogether, the shadows along with it.

All too soon came the familiar clamour that indicated that someone was fiddling with the locks outside. Groggily, Spencer opened his eyes, the painful stiffness in his neck distracting him for a moment before he heard the opening of the door.

Hastily, he scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could manage; turning to face the Unsub with what he hoped was a rigid posture and a threatening look. It was lost on the brutish man, however, as Spencer's sleep-tousled hair and rumpled clothes made him look no more intimidating than a new-born kitten. The large man smirked at the thought.

Alyson, who hadn't woken as easily as Spencer, fluttered her eyes in response to the sudden movement beside the couch and was slowly attempting to sit up, rubbing her tired eyes as she went; but before she had even managed to gain her balance, however, the burly man had thrust the gun in Spencer's face and grabbed her arm, snatching her from the couch with such brutal force that Alyson couldn't help but release a surprised and painful yelp.

Instinctively, Spencer stepped forward, but he sobered as soon as the Unsub cocked his gun menacingly. Alyson tried her best to give him a reassuring smile, but her face quickly changed into a mask of pain and then fear as the man began to drag her from the room.

Her most natural response was to panic. To lash out and pummel her tiny fists against every visible surface on the man's body; but she refrained, because Spencer had warned her about this, and he had told her how she should react. So instead, she followed obediently; trying her best to keep up with the man's rapid pace, not even being able to get one last look at the young FBI agent before the door was ominously slammed shut behind her.

Spencer ground his teeth in frustration. He had told Alyson that the Unsub would more than likely force them to change into different clothes for each occasion, but not knowing, with absolute certainty, that that's what was happening right now was making him anxious. The man had simply had her change in the bathroom before, why was this occasion different?

The young agent paced back and forth in the crimson room with the ferocity of a caged animal, listening intently above his own breathing and hammering heart for any sounds that could be heard beyond the door.

It wasn't long until he heard the door being unlocked again, and this time he didn't need to try and create an intimidating posture. Though Spencer was a man who rarely let his emotions get the better of him, he wouldn't deny that at the moment, he was beyond _pissed. _Not knowing where Alyson was and being trapped inside the same dismal room for two days, as well as fearing for his life had all finally taken its toll on him, and he wanted this revolting man to know that he was _not _a force to be reckoned with – despite the first impression that his appearance often gave.

He seemed to have achieved his goal. The Unsub took one look at him and frowned unsatisfactorily, seeing the anger in Spencer's eyes and somehow knowing that the young agent was not going to be as complacent as he had been in the past.

Deciding on altering his plan of action, the broad man threw a plastic shopping bag in Spencer's direction, neither man flinching when it landed with a dull _thud _at the pale profiler's feet. The Unsub gestured with a nod of his head towards the bathroom, and despite knowing what he wanted, Spencer merely quirked an eyebrow at him defiantly.

"Don't make me say it." Was the man's acid threat, and Spencer stared at him for only a moment longer before he snatched up the shopping and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Breathing in deeply, Spencer shut his eyes and composed himself, opening them again after a few moments to inspect the bag in his hands. The logo on its side indicated that it was from Walmart, and a brief glance at its contents indicated, unsurprisingly, that it was filled with clothes. It made sense that the Unsub would buy them things to wear from Walmart. With the sheer number of victims as well as the number of clothing changes they had to undergo, he imagined that it would get a little pricey before too long. Walmart was also convenient. He knew that there were many in and around the Quantico area, and so Spencer began building this new information onto the geographical profile that he already had ingrained his brain whilst he completed the mundane task of undressing and then redressing into the clothes provided to him.

He looked at himself in the mirror and immediately knew what the setting for the 'first date' was going to be. He was dressed smartly but casually, a pair of black slacks adorned with a purple button-down long-sleeved shirt and a simple pair of black shoes to match. It was simple, yet tasteful, and again Spencer found himself furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to comprehend the fact that the Unsub who had taken them captive had actually been the one to pick this out. He barely had a profile, though what he did have suggested that the man didn't have a single creative bone in his body. Obviously this Unsub was a lot more complex than he had previously thought…

He was pulled from his musings by a sharp rap on the door and he hurried to open it, fearful of making the brutish man angry. Upon seeing the rage pooling in the man's black eyes, Spencer realised that that was probably a good decision.

The man gestured for Spencer to walk first out of the hotel room's door, the muzzle of the gun raised ominously behind him as he stepped out into the deserted corridor. The young agent had noticed the many numbered doors on either side of the corridor upon his arrival, but he hadn't realised how perfectly they played into the Unsub's plan until he was confronted with the situation itself.

Each room could provide the perfect setting, allowing the Unsub to prepare without having to worry about either Spencer or Alyson getting in the way or trying to overpower him and escape. He could herd them from room to room behind the safety of his gun, and both captives would be powerless against him. It was risky… but it was also highly effective.

The Unsub mumbled a room number to Spencer and then pushed him into a walk with his gun. The young agent counted down each door until he finally reached the correct one. He put his hand out without hesitation and turned the handle. He knew the Unsub was going to make him to do it anyway, so why prolong the inevitable?

Spencer stepped into the room and immediately his eyes fell on Alyson. She was seated in the centre of the room, one of her wrists handcuffed to a chair that was clearly nailed to the ground, a dinner-table that was set for two in front of her. She attempted to smile at him reassuringly, and it was only then that Spencer noticed that, she too, had been changed. She wore a form fitting black dress that complimented her figure nicely. The length of the dress stopped just above her knees, and the fabric sparkled ever so slightly in the dim light with every movement that she made. Like his own, her outfit was simple yet tasteful, and he couldn't help but note that it suited her perfectly.

He attempted to smile back at her before he was pushed towards the chair opposite hers at the table. He sat down obediently as the burly man fished handcuffs from the loop of his belt and cuffed one of Spencer's wrists to his chair, just like he had done with Alyson. The chain of the cuff was longer than the norm, and Spencer surmised that this was so that he and Alyson would be able to eat unhindered, but wouldn't be able to fulfil any sort of physical attack towards the Unsub.

Clever.

Quickly, and before his attention was turned away, Spencer managed to have a quick sweep of the room, and realised that with the exception of the table where he and Alyson currently sat as well as the small steel cart that could be found alongside it, the room was much the same as the one they had been imprisoned in for the past two days. He didn't have time to formulate any other hypotheses, however, as his attention was was drawn to the broad man when he took a seat in one of the far corners of the room and interrupted Spencer's thoughts crudely.

"Pour her a drink."

The young agent looked to the table confusedly before his gaze fell on a bottle of red wine. He reached for it but startled as Alyson's voice resonated within the small space.

"That's alright Spencer, I actually don't drink." Alyson smiled in mock cheeriness, and though the Unsub might not have seen it, the seasoned profiler saw that she was telling the truth.

"I don't either." Spencer said blandly. He had learned from his Narcotic's Anonymous groups that alcohol was a 'gateway drug', and he had tried his best to avoid it ever since then; that is until –

"You'll both drink it." The Unsub hissed, his tone garnering absolutely _no _argument.

Spencer looked at Alyson apologetically before he unscrewed the cap of the wine and began to pour some into her glass. He tried his best to pour as little as possible, attempting to stop before he had even reached the halfway point of her glass, but the Unsub had commanded he pour more, and it was only until Alyson's glass was three quarters of the way full that the olive-skinned man was satisfied.

The young agent then poured the wine into his own glass, taking a risk in stopping when it was barely even a quarter full and sighed in relief when the Unsub didn't say anything. Alyson's mouth dropped open in indignation, and Spencer could tell that she was about to protest the favouritism. Hastily, he mouthed the word 'chauvinist' to her, and though she didn't look in any way satisfied, she bit back her anger and settled herself down, for which Spencer was highly thankful.

The two captives stared at each other blankly for a few moments, not entirely of sure of what to do. That is, until the broad-shouldered man cleared his throat loudly from where he sat in the corner, prompting some sort of action.

Alyson looked to Spencer, begging him with her eyes to do something, and following his lead once he lifted his glass, mimicking the action with her own. They each tilted their glasses in the other's direction, in a gesture that appeared to be a toast before they each took a sip.

Spencer bit back a cough as soon as the bitter liquid touched his tongue. The Walmart bag should have been his first clue, the screw cap on the bottle the second. The wine was so disgustedly vile that it could only have been some unknown cheap brand that only the most desperate and down-and-out people would purchase. Looking at the label at the bottle, Spencer saw that he was right.

Alyson's mouth was screwed up in an identical image of distaste as Spencer's, and he saw her forcibly swallow her sip of wine before gazing at her full glass in horror; wondering how on earth she was going to finish the entire thing.

Seeing the Unsub twitch in his peripheral vision, Spencer hastened to move things along and keep the volatile man satisfied and at ease.

"You don't ordinarily drink?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"No."

"Why not?"

Alyson shrugged noncommittally. "I really don't like the taste of alcohol if I'm honest, and I don't like the things it makes me say or do or even think when I've had too much. It's gotten me into my fair share of trouble and you said so yourself; I don't like not being control."

Alyson saw the man scowl at her angrily from his seat, clearly not liking her answer and contemplating just what he was going to do about it.

"However," she added quickly, snatching up her glass, "I do appreciate a fine wine, and you, Doctor Reid, can certainly choose the best." She laughed nervously, nodding to him pointedly before bringing the glass to her lips and knocking her head back, swallowing an all too large gulp as she did so.

_Oh no._

She recovered quickly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I know that I've only been allowed to drink alcohol for a year, but you'd be surprised by how much you can learn in that short amount of time."

"I have no doubt." Spencer said exasperatedly.

"And what about you Spencer?"

"Sorry?"

"Why don't you drink?"

"Oh! Uh…" Spencer looked around the room, suddenly feeling entirely too claustrophobic. He dug his finger beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled at it in a vain attempt to breathe. "Uh… same as you! Though I've had more time to learn!" He chuckled nervously.

"Amazing how the pitch of your voice changes when you lie." Alyson deadpanned, taking another sip of her wine.

"W-what?" The young man sputtered, eyeing the Unsub wearily.

"Tell me about yourself Spencer." Alyson said, chastising herself and steering the topic of conversation away from what she had deduced to be a sensitive issue, though she couldn't help her annoyance at the fact that Spencer was withholding information from her – _again._

"Oh… uh… well I work for the FBI? In the, uh, the Behavioural Analysis Unit." Alyson nodded her head and feigned interest, she knew all of this, but it was all for the benefit of the man who held them captive. "I also have three PhD's, and I'm working on another B.A."

"Really? A BA in what?"

"Philosophy."

"And what is your first BA in?

"Psychology."

"That fits well with your career; and do you have lots of family living with you in Quantico?"

Spencer ducked his head sorrowfully and Alyson felt bad that she had ever even asked. She had thought that it was a seemingly harmless question, something she was sure most people asked on first dates, but clearly it wasn't as simple as that when it came to Spencer.

"Answer her." Came the harsh demand.

Spencer glared at the man in the corner reproachfully before turning his gaze back to Alyson, softening his eyes to her as he began to speak. "No I don't actually. Both my parents live in Vegas, where I grew up."

"Oh I see. I've never actually been to Vegas, though it's definitely a place I'd like to visit. I imagine –"

"TELL HER EVERYTHING!" The Unsub suddenly yelled, jumping to his feet in his anger. Both captives startled where they sat, clearly not having expected the man's outburst. "Tell her the whole story about your parents. Don't leave anything out because I know. I know and the same goes for you." The man said pointedly in Alyson's direction, before he sat back down and fixed Spencer with a glare that broached no argument.

Spencer sighed tiredly and ran a hand through his hair before bringing it down to rest on the table, when he next looked up at Alyson he saw that she was looking at him apologetically and he found that he was grateful for that.

"My father," he began, "left my mother and I when I was very young. He couldn't handle living with us anymore because… because my mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, and though he never said anything to indicate this; I'm… well, I'm me. So my mother and I, we weren't the easiest combination to live with. He couldn't take her episodes anymore, he was probably sick of dealing with me too, and he left."

He jumped when he felt Alyson's fingertips press against his own on top of the table, and immediately she withdrew her hand, but the small action itself gave him the encouragement to continue on. "I recently found out that he had been living in Vegas the entire time, not even ten miles from where I used to live. As I grew up my mother's episodes got worse, and I didn't have what it took to look after her anymore. When I turned eighteen I committed her to a sanatorium; and that's the end of that."

He didn't mean to conclude his monologue in such a harsh and bitter tone, but he resented the fact that he was forcibly being made to talk about his mother and his past. Maybe, one day, once he had gotten to know Alyson better, he would have told her – wanted to tell her – but he was being made to reveal everything instead, in a tacky run-down hotel room, to a scared woman and with a gun pointed to his head. He couldn't help but display just an inkling of the resentment he felt.

"My mother left me when I was five."

Spencer looked up at Alyson and she offered him a small smile, taking yet another sip of wine before she continued. "She didn't have any good reason, aside from the fact that she was sick of the financial struggle and the tiny town we lived in… and me;" Alyson toasted him sarcastically, "clearly."

Spencer looked at her in pitiful understanding. He knew what that kind of abandonment felt like, even if the circumstances were different.

"So it was just me and good ol' dad." Alyson said, taking on an accent that Spencer struggled to place. "The two pariah's in the tiniest rural town you could ever hope to see in North Dakota."

"You don't normally speak with an accent?" Spencer inquired.

Alyson snorted, drinking more wine. "That's because I didn't actually speak to anyone in North Dakota unless I had to."

When Spencer only continued to stare at her in confusion she simply rolled her eyes at him. "Don't you know what 'pariah' means? It means that I literally only wanted to speak to my father; and that I avoided all the locals unless there were extenuating circumstances that couldn't be helped, and given that my father is actually from New York City, it makes sense that I wouldn't ordinarily speak in that accent.

She knew that she was being uncharacteristically sassy, and that it actually passed as rude, but Spencer wasn't the only one who had a past that he didn't like talking about, and she hated their captive about as much as he did for forcing this situation and topic of conversation upon them.

As soon as she thought it her eyes softened, and she was relieved to see that Spencer appeared to garner no reproach or ill will towards her; in fact, his demeanour seemed to suggest… understanding, and she felt herself relax at the notion that he didn't hold her behaviour against her.

Alyson looked down to her glass and noticed that she had already drank half of what was poured to her, she subtly pushed her glass to the side and leaned forwards on the table, resting her elbows on its surface and clasping her hands in front of her.

"How old are you?" She had been itching to ask Spencer that question from the moment she found out about his qualifications.

"Twenty-six."

"That's mental." She smiled.

"What is?"

"Having three PhD's at the age of twenty-six. Like I get you have a genius level IQ, and an eidetic memory and can read at a superhuman speed, but it still just blows my mind."

Spencer frowned and fiddled with his napkin.

"In the best possible sense." She reiterated, and was pleased when his frown turned into a slightly proud smile. Who knew, Spencer Reid actually _impressing _a girl. He'd have to tell Morgan about it as soon as he got out.

"How did you do it?" She asked, completely awed.

For once Spencer allowed his emotions to overwhelm him and he spoke the absolute truth. "It wasn't easy." He said. "Not really. I mean the academic part of it, sure, that has always been the easy part but… looking after my mom at the same time, being at least six years younger than all of my peers." He cleared his throat and thought a while before he next spoke. "I graduated high school at the age of twelve, and whilst things have certainly turned out okay now… I can easily say that at the time there were more cons than pros. A lot more cons than pros."

He didn't startle this time when he felt Alyson's hand on top of his own, in fact he had expected it. "I don't think it was only like that at the time. I think you still feel the effects, even today, and I'm sorry for that. It must have been so hard." She mused. "I was only a year younger than all of my peers and yet, it felt like there was an entire lifetime threaded between us; and for you, it pretty much was. I mean, the age gap was half of your lifetime. To have survived high school at that age and still be the way you are? There's clearly a lot more to you than meets the eye, Spencer Reid; and you could do to give yourself a lot more credit.

And with that she reached for her glass and drained the remaining liquid in one swift gulp. The conversation had turned serious, the situation was dire, she had never been on a date before, and there was absolutely _no way _that she could deal with all of it sober.

It was Spencer's turn to look at her in awe. In a few simple sentences she had managed to summarise what he hadn't been able to put into words for years now; without making him feel like an outcast or a self-deprecating man desperate for attention. She seemed to appreciate his struggle for what it was, but more than that she seemed to _understand _it; or if she didn't, she at least made the attempt to _try._

The young profiler looked towards Alyson as she glanced around the room and he actually allowed himself to study her features. The way the dim light made her skin glow, and how her pinned up dark hair shone with such brilliancy he wouldn't have even known it hadn't been washed for two days had he not actually been held captive with her.

When Spencer's gaze wandered to her eyes and then down to her lips he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. This was unfamiliar to him. This was unknown to him, and whilst he always embraced new knowledge with an unyielding degree of fervour, he wouldn't deny that the unknown also scared him, and he was man enough to admit that he was scared right now…

He cleared his throat once again and the man in the corner seemed to take the silence as his cue. "Pour her more wine."

"You're so kind!" Alyson tried. "But really, I'm –"

"POUR!"

Spencer once again shot her an apologetic look as he raised the bottle and filled her glass almost to the brim – at the Unsub's request – his own glass of wine remaining untouched, save for the single sip he had initially taken. The man's chauvinism and sexist nature was so profound that it actually made Spencer grind his teeth in frustration.

He set the glass down in front of Alyson and she looked at it wearily, as if fearing that it would strike, a nauseous tinge shading her face.

"Eat." The man said from his corner, and Spencer had to look at him to see that he was gesturing towards the small, steel cart sitting alongside the table. He looked back to the cart and only moved to lift a plate with a silver dome atop it when he heard the man's chair screech back as he jumped to his feet in his rage.

He heard Alyson swallow audibly, and she took a gulp of wine to calm her nerves before she reached for her own domed plate and sat it before her.

They looked at each other wearily over the domes of their plates, both with a sense of trepidation that seemed to come straight out of a poorly made episode of 'Fear Factor'. With a telepathic nod they both pulled the domes off of their plates and set them aside, returning their gaze to the food before them.

Alyson's eyes widened and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. What had she expected? A bloodied hand? A foot with a knife embedded in it? She felt like she was in a haunted house and so she had let her imagination get the better of her, but really? _Spaghetti bolognaise? Seriously?_

A million thoughts rambled through her head, about how seemingly ordinary the dish was yet how exceedingly extraordinary the situation was. About how she loved spaghetti bolognaise but would probably never be able to eat it again, and about how she wished she didn't have to eat it here, with Spencer, and under duress. A million thoughts rambled through her head, and instead of simply saying one of the many thoughts out loud, she removed her hand from her mouth and looked at the man in the corner.

"It's cold." She said, and then she burst out into manic laughter at her own stupidity. Out of all the things to say, she had to say _that? _Spencer looked at her with nothing short of concern on his face, and it was that sight alone that calmed her down.

"I'm sorry." She panted. "I'm sorry. I _never _complain in restaurants." She said in the direction of the Unsub. "I don't know what got in to me." And she hefted up her wine glass and began drinking it like it was water.

"Alyson…"

"Don't even start Spencer." She snapped, slamming the wine glass down in front her, not even spilling a drop since there was barely anything left in the glass. "There is no way in _hell _I can contend with the rest of this night sober." And before the man in the corner could even hope to voice his disapproval, Alyson fixed him with a glare. "It's so romantic after all; I'm simply _overwhelmed_ by my infatuation. I'd _hate _for my nerves to get the better of me, but it's nothing a good glass of wine can't cure." She proclaimed loudly and drained the last of what was left in her wine glass.

Spencer didn't even have time to register his actions as he snatched the wine bottle out of her reach when Alyson leaned forwards to grasp it. "I think you've had enough Alyson."

"I disagree Spencer." She retaliated, standing on her tiptoes and swiping the bottle from his hand quickly. She was surprisingly agile given that she was intoxicated.

The young woman poured herself another glass without hesitation and sighed heavily before she took another sip. She looked at Spencer over the rim of her glass and immediately she felt awful. This was why she never drank! All it took was one glass to get her tipsy, another to get drunk, and now she was well on her way to being wasted! She had absolutely no filter when she was like this and she mentally reprimanded herself for her selfishness, reminding herself that it wasn't only her life at stake here.

She put her wine glass down with determination and appraised Spencer. "This looks delicious. I'm so glad I let you choose what we were going to eat, I can already tell that it was the right choice." She beamed at him and tried her best to ignore the utterly confused look he gave her. She had changed from deviant to prim in the blink of an eye, and the young profiler wasn't even aware that it was he himself who had induced the change.

Without further ado, Alyson picked up her fork and spoon and tucked in, knowing that in a matter of seconds she would have been demanded to anyway.

Truthfully, the meal wasn't at all bad, but the fact that it was most probably made from the Unsub's own hand made the pasta taste like ash in Spencer's mouth. He was thankful that there wasn't a large amount of food on either of their plates; it was easily what could have passed as a child's portion; the revelation only serving to further Spencer's theory that financial income was _not _in the Unsub's favour.

The young agent profiled that with that factor in mind, there would definitely be no 'dessert' to sit through, and his heart lifted at the thought that this nightmarish ordeal would soon be over. Well… not exactly but he would at least be able to relax somewhat once he was back in their hotel room.

_Their hotel room?_

"You finished that quickly." Spencer said in mock playfulness, seeing that she had cleared her plate before him and hoping to ease some of the tension that had appeared to descend upon the two of them when they had begun eating.

"What can I say?" She slurred ever so slightly. "You chose well." And though she looked to be sober by the way she was carrying herself, the slight slur and reddened cheeks gave her away to Spencer.

"That was a lovely evening Alyson, thank you." Spencer said, hoping to wrap things up.

"The wine isn't finished." Came a hollow voice from the corner. "Pour her the rest."

Alyson gaped at the man, absolutely dismayed before turning her gaze towards Spencer. There was defiance and anger pooling in his hazel eyes and the hand that was on the table clenched into a painfully tight fist and his jaw clenched. It was clear that he had absolutely _no _intention of pouring Alyson any more wine.

Though she was drunk enough not to note the subtleties of Spencer's body language, she was nowhere near drunk enough to stop being fearful of the man in the corner, or squirm in her seat as he stood up and began marching towards them.

Quickly she grabbed her glass of wine and began gulping it down as quickly as she could. After making space in her glass, she snatched the bottle off of the table and drained what remained in the bottle into her glass.

She set the empty bottle down on the table proudly and looked at the Unsub.

"It's still not finished." He stated and she rolled her eyes at him, the third glass finally taking effect.

"Yes, it would be such a pity to waste such a fine red. I always did enjoy a good bottle of nail polish remover."

Though he tried kicking her under the table, Spencer soon realised that his efforts were worthless, and instead resigned himself to watching in silent horror at the scene unfolding before him.

"Are you criticising what he chose for you?" The burly man asked acidly.

"Not at all." Alyson said sweetly, twirling the stem of the glass between her fingertips. "I told him on the way here that I loved nothing more than a rich red to completely obliterate my oesophageal lining. He certainly delivered." She sarcastically.

"Did you know!" Spencer butt in, seeing how irate their captor was growing. "That when it comes to the number of calories in a glass of red wine, you can figure approximately 25 calories per ounce of red wine. So your glass of red wine at a typical restaurant tops out at 125 calories. While the standard "diet-friendly" glass of red wine only weighs in at 100 calories per 4 ounce. So basically Alyson, you've consumed about –"

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"What?" Spencer blanched. "N-no! I… I was merely suggesting that…" He stopped, looking at her smirking face wearily for a moment. "You were teasing me weren't you?"

"Yes. Yes I was." Alyson smiled, sipping her wine happily, oblivious to the fact that the volatile man had once again returned to his spot in the corner and was watching them curiously.

"I would never call you fat." Spencer reiterated, feeling the need to make this point known. "The very idea of it is simply ludicrous."

Alyson chuckled lightly at him. "Thank you Spencer, I think that idea goes for you as well."

He ducked his head quickly in embarrassment and mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Alyson asked.

"I said you're right. I… I was once called a pipe-cleaner with eyes."

The young woman was thankful that she had just swallowed the last of the wine in her glass, because as soon Spencer told her what he had been called she burst into laughter and quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

"I-I'm sorry!" She exclaimed in between giggles. "But the people you work with must be very creative!"

Warmly, he smiled at her. "That was actually a man I interviewed on a case. A police officer dubbed me 'slim' once."

Alyson chuckled at him and then spoke. "I think I'll stick to Spencer. Or Spence. Or Doctor Reid. Actually no, Mister Handsome. I'd say that's more than fitting than 'slim'." And she was so caught up in her explanation that she didn't notice his blush grow redder or the way his eyes glinted at her in both appreciation and curiosity.

Looking at her now empty wine glass, Spencer sat his napkin on the table and sat up straighter. "I think it's time we called it a night, Miss Roberts." He said courteously, the use of her surname the best attempt at flirting that he could muster.

"I think you're right, Doctor Reid."

They smiled at each other, turning their heads to appraise the man seated in the corner expectantly, hoping against all hope that he too was willing to call it a night.

**I don't know how people will react to drunk Aly… but as a flyweight myself, I can relate to not being able to hold my liquor (falling out a taxi and spraining my ankle when overseas two weeks ago *cough*), and I felt it might be comedic seeing Spencer deal with it, and dramatic because of the Unsub, all at the same time :P**

**People Person I'm Not: ****Hahaha, I laughed so hard when I read that because I feel EXACTLY the same way! How sad am I that I'm jealous of a character I created? :P Thank you for the review!**

**Guest: ****I loved your review so very much and it made me smile! I couldn't agree more, Reid is the definition of sexy… I don't care what anyone else says. Lol, I'm glad you like the pace, and I will definitely be answering some of thise questions soon! Thank you for reviewing!**

**AnAverageGirl15: ****Your review was pure awesome. I'm 20 years old and haven't dated either. Maybe I'm deluding myself, but I'm determined to wait until it feels right. You have a photographic memory? Leave now! Lol, just kidding, but I am jealous. Speech pathology and Audiology would be so much easier with one of those. I'm a sucker for geeks too, and I'm SO happy your finals went well! WELL DONE for acing them and thank you for the review! :D**

**Marcallie: ****Clearly Reid just hasn't been to the places where us fangirls are lurking, lol, because I'd date him in a heartbeat too! But I'm glad you like that neither has dated, and I hope their 'first date' didn't disappoint you. Thank you very much for the review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Day Three (Continued)**

The silence stretched on longer than either captive would have liked; the Unsub simply staring at the two of them with cold, impassive eyes, as if deciding if he were satisfied with the outcome of the date or not.

Against his better judgement, Spencer found himself squirming in his seat uncomfortably in response to the man's gaze. Alyson was in a similar predicament; only her squirming was more like swaying, as she rapidly blinked her eyes in a vain attempt at getting them to focus. She was dismayed to note that the wine had well and truly gone to her head.

Suddenly the burly man in the corner jumped to his feet, deciding that he actually was satisfied with how the evening had turned out and moved towards Alyson in a fashion that suggested that he was going to herd the two of them out and back into their room the way he had done so previously – separately.

Seeing the condition that his female counterpart was in, and not wanting to leave her for a single second alone with their captor, Spencer quickly rattled his brain for a plan of action. He couldn't allow himself to be separated from Alyson again; he wouldn't.

"I would very much like it if you would allow me to walk you home Miss Roberts." The Unsub stopped where he stood, hand raised just above the cuff around Alyson's wrist and scowled at Spencer viciously.

Whilst it was undoubtedly their captor who was calling the shots, Spencer had noted that he had some level of say over their situation simply because he was the one identified as being Alyson's "significant other"; and in a true chauvinistic fashion, this meant that he could manipulate their interactions by making it seem like he was taking charge and controlling her. He hated the idea of being domineering in such a way, but if it was going to allow him to have some level of control in contexts such as this, well, then he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

The young woman looked at him through half-lidded eyes, and although she was struggling to concentrate in the given moment, she trusted Spencer enough to follow his lead and feel safe in his judgment.

"I would love that Doctor Reid." She smiled. "I daresay I'll need the help, I think perhaps I had _too much_ of a good time tonight." And her laugh was so light and carefree that Spencer found himself frowning in disappointment that of course she didn't really mean it; who would, given their current situation?

"Well that's settled then." Spencer said, faking a smile, honestly awed at the fact that she was hardly slurring her words and using such a sizeable vocabulary. "It would be my honour to walk you home Alyson." He said it in a tone that suggested no argument, and he hoped that the power struggle between him and the Unsub would not end badly.

The volatile man stared him down for but a moment before he moved to Spencer's side and wielded his gun threateningly. "Try anything funny, _anything _at all and I will shoot you before you can blink. Understand?!"

Spencer nodded his head stiffly and focused his gaze on Alyson.

"I'll do a lot worse to her." The burly man smirked, disgusting spencer to his core. Somehow, the man's second threat seemed to scare him into compliance much more readily than the first one ever could.

With that last warning on the tip of his tongue, their captive flourished the handcuff's keys from out of his pocket and released the young agent's wrist from where it had previously been imprisoned. The man set the keys on the table and took a step back, aiming the gun at Spencer's face.

For a moment the profiler forgot to breathe, but his worries were quickly laid to rest when the Unsub demanded that Spencer take the keys and unshackle Alyson himself, the young agent being only too happy to comply.

Once he had Alyson free from the cuffs Spencer expected that she would practically jump to her feet, only too eager to get back to their hotel room and away from the threatening man with the gun. Only she didn't. She continued to stare ahead, as if having some kind of inner battle and Spencer realised that she was trying to get control of herself.

The young agent sighed slightly, fearing that their captor would soon grow impatient, yet marvelling at how right Alyson had been when she had told him that she couldn't hold her drink.

That had been an understatement.

She looked up at him when his hand came to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes were both pleading and filled with embarrassment, and immediately he knew what he had to do. Carefully, Spencer hoisted her up, hunching over slightly to wind her arm around his neck and snake his own arm around her waist so that he was able to hold onto her as firmly as possible.

"Thanks." She mumbled into his shoulder, trying her best to carry her own weight and failing dismally. Spencer didn't mind though, and he double checked that his grip on her was secure before looking up their captor.

The man looked at the two of them with something akin to softness in his eyes, a subtle sort of longing that flashed against the surface for a mere moment before it was gone, and Spencer wondered if he had really even seen it at all.

Without lowering the gun from its position aimed at the young agent's head, the Unsub opened the door from which they had entered the room and gestured for Spencer to leave – the young agent needing no further prompting.

Quietly, Spencer whispered to Alyson, coaxing her into moving her legs and supporting her all at the same time. Her weight wasn't much of a burden and he found helping her walk easy enough; however, he didn't like that it left him vulnerable, that if the Unsub were to strike he would be completely helpless. The best he could do for now was to keep his eye on the man whilst ushering Alyson out of the door.

He made it to the threshold of the door, and was just about to pass through it when Alyson tripped over the massive man's foot from where he stood half in the doorway. Spencer's grip tightened and Alyson regained her balance easily enough.

"Sorry." She apologised to Spencer quickly, thinking that it was his foot that she had tripped over, but she soon realised that this was not so and turned her head to face their captor. "Actually I'm not." She spat, and she would have said more had Spencer not shoved her out the door urgently and pushed her into a brisk walk.

Vaguely, he heard the door shut and the footsteps of the Unsub as he followed behind them, feeling the presence of the gun on the back of his neck. He moved Alyson's arm from where he had wound it around his neck to around his lower back, relieved when he could finally straighten out. She was so much shorter than him, her head only just coming to the top of his shoulder when she wasn't in high heels like she was now. He began to wonder why it was that he was even thinking these things in the first place when Alyson's voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Jeez Mister Handsome, what's the rush? You're walking so fast, we're practically running!"

"We're not running as fast as your mouth." He replied irritably, and immediately he felt bad. Alyson knew she couldn't consume large amounts of alcohol and she had tried to abstain; it wasn't her fault that she was this drunk; but the fact that she kept antagonising their captor really wasn't doing anything to calm his nerves in the given situation.

Thankfully, his rudeness seemed to fly straight off of the top of Alyson's head completely. "Don't be ridiculous. My mouth doesn't have legs! What an absurd thing for a genius to say, are you sure you weren't lying before about having a high IQ?"

He didn't even have time to answer her before she looked over her shoulder at their captor and yelled to him. "Sir! Was he lying before about his IQ?"

"Alyson!" Spencer whispered harshly, pulling her into his side so that she faced him and he increased their pace.

"What?!" She asked exasperatedly. "I mean he knows _everything _about us! Surely he can tell me if you're lying or not?"

"I'm not lying!"

"Wait… who said you were a liar?"

"What?" Spencer asked incredulously.

"What?" Alyson echoed, genuinely confused.

"Just…" Spencer began, finding himself at a loss for words. "Just walk, and _please _don't say anything else."

He was surprised when she actually didn't say anything else and he focused his attention on reaching their hotel room. Why was the corridor so _long? _It certainly hadn't felt that way when he had come from the room, though he hadn't been half carrying a drunk woman and fearing the repercussions of her intoxicated ramblings so he supposed that it made sense.

"Mister Handsome?" Alyson asked hesitantly. "I know that I'm not allowed to say anything but can I please take these shoes off? They're killing me."

He looked down at her feet and actually focused on them for the first time that night. His eyes widened and he discovered a newfound respect for the woman beside him for walking as well as she was, as drunk as she was, in heels that were the height of _those. _She was wearing shiny, black patent stiletto heels that were so high it should have been illegal.

Immediately he stopped and supported her while she bent down to remove her shoes, squeezing his elbows as she wobbled out of them and then sighing in relief when she was finally able to stand flat on the ground. She looked up at him and smiled graciously and his heart sputtered in his chest.

"I…" He started, but she bent down to pick the heels up from where they lay on the floor.

"Thank you." She said, and for a reason that Spencer couldn't possibly fathom he was suddenly angry. She was _thanking _him for doing something that any decent human being would have automatically done without thought after asking for his _permission _to do so. The very idea of it made him thoroughly sick, and although Spencer often had no idea of anything while he was in this hotel, he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was _not _going to be _that _guy. He never was and he never would be.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"What are you apologising for?" Alyson questioned.

"For making you feel like you had to ask for permission."

She looked at him with her eyebrows knitted in confusion but otherwise didn't say anything. Spencer gazed at her for a moment longer before looking over the top of her head at their captor; glaring at him when he noticed the man's dissatisfied expression at hearing Spencer's apology to Alyson. He looked back down at Alyson and was relieved to see that she was a lot more stable without the burden of her heels.

"Come on." He said, taking her hand for good measure and turning to lead her down the rest of the corridor. She followed him without complaint until the voice of the Unsub jarred her progress.

"I don't think it's appropriate for a woman to be walking around without shoes on."

Well _I _don't think it's appropriate to abduct people and then keep them imprisoned under threat of a gun!" Alyson threw back over her shoulder, not even slowing her pace as she continued to walk down the corridor.

"Make her put them back on."

"That's alright." Spencer said nonchalantly, upping his pace in a desperate attempt to get to their room as quickly as possible. "They're incredibly high shoes and I understand that they're hurting her."

"They don't hurt that much." The man responded icily.

"Then _you _wear them!" Alyson yelled, turning to throw the shoes at the man's feet before grabbing Spencer's wrist and stomping down the hallway.

Spencer flew a weary glance over his shoulder at the volatile man, but other than scowling viciously he made no further move to attack. The young agent allowed himself to be pulled towards their room until he was standing in front of the door, not even sparing a thought to the Unsub before opening it and gesturing for Alyson to walk inside.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" The man hissed, halting Alyson before she was even able to make a move to walk through the door.

Spencer's eyebrows knitted together in genuine confusion, looking at the Unsub and seeking an answer.

Alyson on the other hand looked at the man with disinterest. She then looked to Spencer and then back at the man and her eyes widened when he cocked an eyebrow at her suggestively.

"Sorry," she began, "but I don't kiss on the first date –"

"Me neither!" Spencer blurted out, quickly catching on to what was happening and doing everything in his power to stop it. Just thinking about… _that, _made him so nervous he realised that the palms of his hands had already begun to sweat. It wasn't that he didn't want to… it's just… he…

"But I would love to see you again!" Alyson said, noting the dark look that had dominated the man's face. "You know, get to know more about you? I mean, only if you want." She blushed, looking down at her feet.

"I'd love to." Spencer said, and he angled her further into the room before following himself once he saw the Unsub's consent." The door slammed shut right behind him as soon as he had walked through, and he never thought that he would have been happier to be imprisoned in a room than he was right now.

Alyson had gone straight for the bathroom, and Spencer only had to wait a few moments before she returned wearing a pair of plain, light-blue flannel pyjama pants and a white tank top. She had taken her hair down and looked far more relaxed than she had minutes before.

"Where –" Spencer swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. "Where did you get those?"

"They were in the bathroom sitting on the counter."

A frown line made its way onto the young agent's forehead and he walked briskly into the bathroom. It was unremarkable and completely unchanged, except that he spied another set of pyjamas sitting on the counter which he presumed were for him. He shook his head slightly and walked back out of the bathroom.

"Where those there before we left?" He asked, not recalling having seen them in the bathroom before.

"No…" Alyson began, unsure of where he was going with this until her eyebrows lifted in realisation. "Oh my gosh, but… but he was with us the whole time! Who –"

"He has an accomplice." Spencer said, and he became so tired and so overwhelmed by the revelation that he made his way over to the bed and sat on its edge. Succumbing to lying down and stretching out when he felt the beginnings of a migraine arise from his temple. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out noisily.

Alyson looked at him sympathetically for a moment before going back to the bathroom. Spencer heard her fumbling around the bathroom cabinets and turning the faucet on but thought nothing of it. The revelation was troubling him, his migraine was getting worse, and despite sleeping for the majority of the day, the stress of the night had really worn him out.

He startled when he felt something cool being placed on his forehead and his eyes snapped open. Alyson was hovering over him, placing a damp cloth over his forehead and smoothing it down so that it stuck.

"There weren't any painkillers in the bathroom." She said. "Go figure."

"How did you…?"

"So I guess this is the next best thing." She huffed, walking around the bed and collapsing onto her stomach next to him.

The young profiler was relieved to note that although the damp cloth wasn't halting his headache's progress, it was taking the edge off as well as having a soothing effect. His breathing evened out, and he turned his head slightly to appraise the woman lying next to him.

"You sobered up quickly."

She snorted at that and peeked an eye open from where she had her head buried in a pillow. "No I haven't. I'm just not being antagonised and I happen to like the company now." She turned to face him and leaned an elbow on the bed, her head coming to rest in her palm. "Have you noticed that I'm a particularly nasty drunk when I don't like someone?"

"I did notice that." Spencer quirked an eyebrow, seeing that she wasn't actually as sober as he had previously thought she was by her sheer lack of shyness and self-consciousness.

He jumped slightly when she rolled onto her back and burst out laughing, gritting his teeth when the volume encouraged his blooming migraine.

"Care to share?" He asked irritably.

Alyson laughed for a few more seconds, once again missing the annoyance in his voice, before she choked out. "Did you see his face?!" Clutching her stomach as she started to laugh once more.

Spencer was beyond irritated now. "Actually I did, and I wouldn't say that it was something to laugh about, especially since he was holding a gun and about two seconds away from pulling the trigger!"

The young physiotherapist immediately stopped laughing and turned her head to face him. She looked at him seriously for a moment and he truly thought that he had gotten his point across; perhaps more harshly than was strictly necessary, but across nonetheless; but then Alyson opened her mouth and spoke the last thing he expected to hear.

"Do I need to start calling you Mister Grumpy now?"

Spencer's mouth dropped open, certain that she was joking, but she continued to stare at him with such a composed expression that he knew she was being serious.

"Alyson…" He sighed out, once again pinching his nose and trying his best to fight off the smile that threatened to come. This situation was _not _funny. The way she had antagonised their captor was _not _funny and the way he was feeling right now was _not _funny… but the things that were coming out of her mouth tonight were so unintentionally hilarious that he couldn't help but want to laugh.

There was nothing more annoying to Spencer Reid than a drunken person. They were unruly, uncontrolled and often just so _unpleasant _that he tried his absolute best to avoid them at all costs. Rarely had he ever been entertained by a drunken person's antics, though he supposed that there was a first time for everything.

"Don't worry." She said idly, playing with the button on his shirtsleeve. "I prefer Mister Handsome too. It's more fitting." She yawned the last part out before looking up at him and frowning when she noticed that the cloth on his forehead was askew. She reached over and straightened it out, patting it once more for good measure before returning to the button on his shirtsleeve.

He swallowed, unused to the sensation but seeing no further agenda behind the action. "Thank you." He whispered.

She smiled without looking at him and continued her ministrations for a while longer before she next spoke. "You're welcome. Sometimes, it's just nice to be looked after for a change."

Spencer thought on that and couldn't help but agree. Though unexpected, having Alyson get the cloth and tend to him was comforting. He wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention… that kind of care, but he imagined that it was the kind of thing that mothers did. He had a vague memory of his mother doing the same thing for him when he had a particularly nasty fever in his childhood, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He found the memories of his mother in her lucidity painful ever since she had succumbed to her disease. He supposed it was because he had a taste of what it would it be like to have mother when he was younger, before he had become the parent, before she had been lost to him…

"Sucks not having a mother, doesn't it?"

"I have a mother." Spencer snapped defensively.

She stopped playing with the button and gave his arm a squeeze, and suddenly he felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes and he had no clue as to why.

He was overwhelmed; worn-out from not having to protect himself but protect Alyson as well. Worn-out from worrying and trying to profile an Unsub that seemed to stay as elusive as he had been from the first time Spencer had encountered him; and now he was worn-out from one of the most stressful nights of his life, from the knowledge that there was an accomplice and wondering how on earth Alyson did that thing that made it seem like she could read his mind… and then he had thought about his mother and how she used to be and how worried she probably was after receiving no letters when she was used to receiving one every day; and now his migraine was so painful and –

"Hey." Alyson said, stroking his arm up and down when she noticed his heightened breathing. "It's okay."

Though no tears fell, he turned his face away from her, not wanting her to see him in distress because he had to be strong for the both of them. The thought of her seeing him so vulnerable like this and judging him was almost too much to bear.

"Hey." The young woman said again. "You don't have to be strong all the time you know. That's exhausting; just let it go."

"How do you know?!" Spencer asked desperately, rolling over so that he could face her, the action bringing their faces closer than either was comfortable with.

"Know what?"

"What I'm thinking! What I'm feeling! I…" He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, his head throbbing with the onslaught of his migraine.

"I think we're more alike than you give us credit for." She said simply in way of an answer, and he found that he didn't have the energy to look into the statement or even pursue his line of questioning. He just wanted to lie there in silence and hopefully fall asleep.

His eyes remained closed and Alyson seemed to sense what he wanted, her own fatigue mixed with the liquor making her eyes heavy as well.

She reached up and flipped the cloth over, combing Spencer's hair out of his face as she pressed the cloth back down on top of his forehead.

She continued stroking his hair tentatively when she saw that his expression had looked less pained and his body had relaxed slightly at the motion. Never in her life would she have been so forward in comforting someone. Physical contact was something she rarely engaged in, and from what she had seen from Spencer, it was something that he rarely engaged in as well.

She supposed that she could blame the wine for that, but when she thought about it… really thought about it, she wondered if she could blame the wine at all. The idea scared her, but she was too tired to dwell on it.

Spencer's breathing had evened out to a rhythmic pattern and she knew that he had fallen asleep; it was only a few moments later that her hand stopped its movements and she joined him in the realm of dreams, their chests rising and falling simultaneously in a steady, even pattern.

**A/N: Sorry about the delay! And thank you to everyone who is sticking by me and with this story. This is the first case fic I've ever written (aside from a oneshot I'm working on) and I never knew how hard they were until I started! More involvement from the team next chapter as they start to piece things together, I just wanted to establish a bit more of a relationship between Spencer and Alyson first.**

**People Person I'm Not: ****I'm glad you enjoyed their 'first date', and yes, that's really how I sprained my ankle :/ I'm horribly embarrassed by it, and it's still giving me grief! Thank you for reviewing!**

**Ripon: ****Hey there! Well, I'm not actually American, I'm South African :P Hehe, I'm just using American terminology for certain things since this is set in the USA. Basically what you listed is the same in South Africa and the same as what I meant for this story. Neither Alyson nor Spencer has had a serious relationship in this story, and I've made so that they've never 'dated' or gone on a 'date' either (as you know it in the UK) just so that it can add to the story :D I hope I cleared that up for you! Hehe, please let me know if I haven't! And thank you very much for reviewing!**

**AnAverageGirl15: ****Hahaha, I'm really glad you enjoyed it! Though I can't take the credit for that one. I remember hearing it in a Criminal Minds Episode though I can't remember which one, so the credit goes to that writer :P but thank you for all your compliments, and just know that I am BEYOND jealous of that photographic memory of yours. Seriously, neuroanatomy would be so much easier with it! Snaps to you for doing physics! I would struggle big time! Thank you so much for reviewing!**

**Not-Knowing-Is-Everything: ****Hahahaha, fret not, you're not the first person to say this… and how awkward does it make me that I'm jealous of my own character? :/ meh… being locked in a room with Spence sounds like heaven to me lol. Thank you for reviewing!**

**LuCky-StAr69: ****I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry I made you wait and thank you for the review.**

**Rebecca1: ****Yay! Haha, I really love your reviews! They're always so detailed and long and if I'm honest, they actually really help my writing process as they guide me as to how people are reading and reacting to the content and if I'm getting across what I want to get across and if I need to change anything. Example: I didn't say much about Aly's father and don't want to create confusion, so I'm definitely going to write a little something more about him maybe in the next chapter :P hehe, you're too smart for your own good. ;) Thank you for your insightful review!**

**Blueberrytoast: ****Your wish is my command! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for the review!**

**Annber03: ****Your review was so lovely and really just made my day. Seriously, I was having THE worst day and it just put a smile on my face so thank you. It's such a great compliment to hear that readers get invested in a story so thank you for that as well! You know, it's also good to hear that I'm not the only one with this whole 'dating' thing, because before I started this story and people told me they were in the same boat I honestly thought I was the only one! Hehe, and as for the firsts with the uh….. yeah…. That's quite a crucial plot point. My lips are sealed ;) Thank you so much for your awesome review!**

**Thetyger: ****You just gave me, undoubtedly, THE best compliment ever by telling me that I write Reid well. Seriously, thank you! He's such a hard character to write, and I was genuinely petrified that I wasn't doing him justice! Thank you for the review and I hope you enjoy this update.**

**Jaime1991: ****Haha, I'm really glad you did! I was worried that people might find her annoying and get pissed off :P (I have the same worry for this chapter as well :/) I hope you enjoyed this update and thank you for the review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Thank you to everyone who has stuck by this story. I know that I have kept you waiting far too long, so you have my deepest apologies for that. I finally finished, and published, "Never the Same Again", so my sole focus is on this story now. Yay!**

**Day Four**

"Hello?"

"Good morning Sir, I'm looking for Samuel Roberts?"

"Speaking."

"Mister Roberts, my name is Jennifer Jareau. I'm with the FBI and was hoping to ask you a few questions.

"FBI? Why on earth is the FBI calling me?"

J.J. furrowed her eyebrows in confusion when she took in the man's accent. He sounded elderly, sickly even, but his accent was distinctly that of a New Yorker. It was clear that he was not a native of North Dakota.

"Mister Roberts, is there any way that you could come to Quantico, Virginia? This conversation would be better had if it were conducted in person. I don't want to alarm you, but –"

"Is my daughter alright? Is Alyson alright?"

J.J. sat stunned on the other end of the line. This really wasn't the kind of news that she wanted to deliver over the phone, but the man was clearly sharp. He'd made the connection in less than a minute of her being on the phone and she knew that trying to lull this man into a sense of complacency was going to be a challenge.

"Mister Roberts, you need to calm down. I understand that receiving a call like this is frightening, and must come as a great shock –"

"What has happened to my daughter?!" The panic was clear in his raspy voice.

"She…" J.J. inhaled a deep breath. "She's been abducted Sir."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening, and then J.J. heard a stuttered. "W-what?"

"Mister Roberts –"

"Samuel."

"Samuel. Is there any way you can come to Quantico? It's essential that we gain as much information about your daughter from you as possible, so that we may be better equipped in finding her."

"I…" He stammered, his voice breaking in a way that made J.J's eyes water. "I can't! I don't have the money for that kind of a trip! But if you could just give me some time, I'm sure I could find it. I'm sure I could… I could make a plan!"

"Samuel. We don't have that kind of time. In a case of abduction, every second counts, and I fear we've lost quite a bit of time already –" J.J. had to stop herself as she heard a muffled sob on the other end of the line.

"I'm a terrible father."

"No you're not. No one could have foreseen that this would happen."

"I know that but what kind of a father let's their daughter travel to a different state alone?! Let's them study and work there alone? Let's them live there alone?!"

"Samuel. Will I be able to contact you on this number for the duration of the day?"

"Yes. No… I mean yes! Yes you can! I'll have to take time off work to stay at home, but you can, you can contact me on this number."

"You don't have a cell phone?"

"No."

"Alright. I'm going to assemble my team and then ring you again for a conference call. We'll then ask you some questions and explain to you all that we know thus far. Is that alright Mister Roberts?"

"Samuel."

"Is that alright Samuel?"

"Yes." He whispered. "Yes that's alright."

"Okay Samuel. We'll give you a call in the next hour or so."

"Okay."

J.J. hung up the phone and released a breath she hadn't even been aware that she had been holding. She had dealt with many families, and many emotional cases, but she had a feeling that this was going to be one of the most emotional cases that she had ever had to deal with.

This case was personal, and it was high time that the team brought both Spencer and Alyson home.

O-O-O-O-O

As Spencer's eyes fluttered into opening, the first thing that came to his awareness was the sharp pain along his temples, and with it the frustrating realisation that, no, his migraine had _not _gone away, and that it would more than likely be present throughout the day – growing steadily worse along with its duration.

The second thing to reach his awareness was far more comforting, though no less frustrating, given how he reacted to it. His heart sped up a notch as he realised that both he and Alyson must have fallen asleep while hey had been talking, which meant that her fingers were still buried in his hair, the sensation of which wasn't nearly alarming as he thought it would be, to a tactile-sensitive person such as himself. In fact, he found it rather comforting… nice in its own way.

Spencer looked to Alyson's face and noticed her eyes scrunch in pain before they opened. She looked at him vacantly for a few seconds before placing her head in her hands and emitting a pitiful groan.

"Hangover?" Spencer asked knowingly.

"Hangover." She confirmed, completely miserable at the throbbing in her head.

He just looked at her, not knowing what to do, especially since he himself had never had a hangover before. He told her as much, and then suggested that she rehydrate as much as possible, since her headache was due to the dehydration caused by the alcohol.

"How is it even possible to get a hangover from one freaking bottle of wine?!" She yelled in dismay, burying her face deeper into her hands as her head was rattled by the sound of her own voice.

Spencer smiled at her lightly before he began to answer her question. "Well, given your size and stature and the fact that you don't drink regularly, I wouldn't say that it's entirely inconceivable."

Alyson scowled at his ability to turn almost any topic of conversation into a lecture.

"In your defence though," the young agent added in a lighter tone of voice, "you really can't be blamed for having an extreme reaction to… now what was it you called it? 'A bottle of nail polish remover'?"

Alyson's eyes widened in horror and she looked at him desperately. "No…"

"Yes." He said, smirking lightly. "Speaking of which, how is the 'oesophageal lining' this morning? Is it 'completely obliterated'?"

"You're making this up." Alyson said in disbelief. "I would never say that, let alone to someone as scary as him."

She was surprised when Spencer actually chuckled at her. "In the short time that you've known me, does it honestly seem like I have a single creative bone in my body to be able to make that up? I'm truly curious as to how you came up with half of the things you said last night."

"You know," Alyson began dismally, "the worst part is that it's all coming back to me." And she actually grew pale and shuddered slightly as she remembered exactly how she had misbehaved and how much danger she had put both herself and Spencer in. "Sorry." She said miserably, before burying her face in her hands once again, distraught at the notion that there was no way Spencer could possibly forgive her for the behaviour that she displayed last night.

The young woman looked up quickly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "If he didn't want to deal with unruliness, then he shouldn't have forced it down your throat. You said you couldn't handle it, it's his fault for not heeding the warning."

His voice was so hostile. It was completely heated and simmering with a subtle rage that Alyson crinkled her brow. She'd never seen that much anger in the young man's eyes and she realised that he was well and truly pissed off – though not at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Fine." He replied curtly, though he was quick to remediate the answer as soon as he heard how rude it sounded. "My migraine's just killing me, and reminiscing about last night only seems to be spurring it on."

Alyson nodded her head sympathetically before she reached over and grabbed the cloth that had fallen onto his pillow sometime during the course of the night. "Just wait here." She said to him, before she got off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Desperately she searched the bathroom for something to help with his headache, but to no avail. She knew it was futile before she had even begun to look, but still, she had to have tried. Luckily for her, she had never had to contend with a hangover that was any worse than the one she was dealing with now; and really it wasn't at all bad to begin with. Her main concern was Spencer, because his migraine looked like it was ready to kill him.

Deftly, she filled a glass in the bathroom with water before drinking its contents. She then repeated the process for a second time before she refilled it for Spencer, wetting the cloth as she did so. Alyson looked at her tired reflection in the mirror and smiled hesitantly; she felt much better after having some water to drink.

The young physiotherapist returned to the room and frowned when she saw that Spencer was clearly in a lot more pain than he had been in when she had left the room. He must have heard her footsteps as she approached him, for he began to speak as she set the glass down beside him.

"It never usually gets this bad this fast."

He was slightly breathless from the pain, and he was gritting his teeth with the effort of trying to remediate it.

"It makes sense that it would be worse here. You're under a lot of stress, and gritting your teeth and clenching your jaw doesn't help it all. You probably have a tension headache on top of your migraine."

Spencer groaned involuntarily at the information, he hadn't even thought of that, which was a testament in of itself of what this situation was doing to his mental state.

"I wish I could just massage it away." He mumbled wistfully.

"I know." Alyson said knowingly. "If only you had a physiotherapist who specialised in that sort of thing."

Spencer peeked open his eyes and looked at her with a slightly fearful expression.

"Relax genius." Alyson said mockingly. "I'm a trained professional."

"But… but… I wasn't aware physiotherapy aided in the remediation of migraines? And believe me when I say that I've done the research."

"No not migraines, but definitely tension headaches. I've had quite a few clients in a similar predicament. The physio relieves the tension headaches by working out and relaxing the muscles. It won't take away your migraine but it will relieve the pain enough to a point where you'll hopefully be able to sleep it off."

"But… I don't expect you to… you know you –"

"Here drink this." The young woman said, handing him the glass. Wincing, he sat up and managed a few sips. He attempted to hand the glass back to Alyson when she raised an eyebrow and he chose to drain the glass instead.

"Good." She said. "Hopefully that will help take the edge off."

She sat the glass back down and picked up the cloth. "Shift up." She said, and began to sit on Spencer's side of the bed, not giving him a choice as to if he was going to move over or not. She began arranging the pillows before telling him to lie back down.

Spencer lay down as he had been instructed, but it wasn't long before Alyson was frowning at the angle he was lying in, and how awkward it made it for her to do her work.

"This isn't going to work." She said. "I have another idea, sit back up." Spencer clenched his teeth in pain but did as he was bid without complaint. He watched through bleary eyes as Alyson shifted closer to him, moving to sit behind him, crossing her legs and arranging the pillows in her lap.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked quickly.

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked, amused at the panic in his voice. "Here, lie back now."

When the young agent made no move to do as she had instructed she simply grasped his head and guided it into her lap. Spencer stiffened immediately, unfamiliar with such intimate contact. Alyson chose to ignore his discomfort, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he was clearly uncomfortable.

"Where does is hurt?"

Spencer snorted sadly. "Everywhere. Mostly my temples though."

"Okay."

Carefully she placed the cloth on his forehead and just let it lie there for a bit, trying to sooth away some of the tension in his head. It wasn't long before she realised that it really wasn't helping very much, and so she moved it aside and replaced it with her fingers instead.

He flinched slightly as her fingertips made contact with his skin, but relaxed almost instantly when she began to thread them through his hair and over his skin, the slight movements already making a profound difference.

It was silent between them for a while, as Alyson continued to work the tension out of Spencer's headache, and he tried his best not to fall asleep from the resulting fatigue.

Alyson broke the silence when her arm brushed against his cheek. "You need to shave." She said jokingly.

He smiled at her but kept his eyes closed. "I know. I've thought that every time I've looked in the mirror."

Alyson chuckled in response. "Don't worry; it's not on our list of priorities right now."

"We have a list?"

"Yeah we do."

"What's the top priority?"

Alyson hesitated before she answered. "Staying alive."

Spencer didn't really know what to say to that. Alyson spoke the truth… yet she had said it so despondently, so sadly that he began to worry that maybe she was giving up. He didn't notice when he began to finger the crook of his elbow – a nervous habit he had developed ever since the Hankel case – but he jumped slightly when he felt Alyson's hands near his.

"Here." She said. "Undo the buttons and roll the sleeves up, it'll be more comfortable if you –"

"N-no!" Spencer said quickly, trying to sit up and snatching his arm away.

"Okay!" Alyson soothed, holding him down gently as she watched him in confusion. "You don't have to if you don't want to; I just thought it looked really tight and confining."

"It's fine thanks."

"Alright." She said once again, and she waited for him to calm down ever so slightly before she began kneading her fingers once again. That was… _strange. _The young woman struggled to wrap her head around Spencer's weird behaviour. He'd almost had a panic attack he was so desperate for her not to expose his skin. At first Alyson thought that he was simply shy, but she quickly discarded the thought and decided that it was more than that; what exactly it was, she did not know, and she felt like she was overstepping her bounds or invading his privacy too much if she dwelt on it for too long. So she simply cast it from her mind, making a mental note to ponder on it at some later stage, maybe when things didn't feel so new between them.

When she looked back to him she found that his breathing was beginning to even out. She smiled happily at the peaceful look that was beginning to mould his face. She had never seen him look so calm or relaxed, and Alyson realised that although he had slept while they had been held captive, he hadn't truly rested, and she wondered how many times he had woken up during their joint slumbers and had simply let her sleep on. The darkness around his eyes was a testament to how much this was wearing him down.

His chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm the next time she focused on him, yet she continued her ministrations, happy that they had somehow managed to quell some of the pain that he had experiencing, and too scared to stop in case the loss of sensation would cause him to wake; and so she continued on, lost in her thoughts, her hands moving of their own accord as she attempted to repay him for all that he had done for her in the only way that she knew how.

Time passed; and she only became aware that it was well past breakfast time when her stomach released a desperate moan. She thought back to the last thing she had eaten and gave an involuntary shudder – spaghetti bolognaise would never again hold the same appeal to her as it once did.

As if sensing that her thoughts had turned to the meal and the man who had prepared it, the locks on the other side of the door began clicking as they were moved out of place. Alyson's breath caught in her throat as the door creaked open and she watched with fearful eyes as she was confronted with the repetitive image of the massively volatile man who would forever haunt her dreams.

The atmosphere in the room dropped from pleasant to disdainful in less than a second, and yet Spencer slept through it all. Their captor hadn't even bothered to raise his gun when he saw that it was only Alyson who was conscious, her arms tightening around Spencer's face instinctively as the man's eyes roamed his prone form.

Finally, he looked back up to her, and she glared at him with absolutely nothing short of hatred in her brown eyes, causing the Unsub to smile at her meek protectiveness and pitiful antics. He simply pushed their usual breakfast tray into the room with the toe of his shoe before giving Alyson a parting glance and closing the door behind him.

Shakily, she released the breath that she had been holding and relaxed the tension in her arms. She looked down towards Spencer's sleeping face and was relieved to see that he was still out cold, his face still peaceful. She was glad for that.

Hesitantly, she looked towards the tray of food, but decided that it really wasn't worth the risk of waking Spencer up. He needed all the rest that he could get, and she certainly wasn't in the mood for tasteless eggs on toast.

She resumed where she had left off, combing her fingers through his hair, marvelling at its length and noting that it could do with a wash. When she continued working out the muscles she found that the action was so familiar to her that it soothed her just as much as it soothed Spencer. She could feel herself begin to relax against the headboard and calm down to the point where she could simply enjoy the task at hand.

The act was so quaint, so perfectly domestic that for a few moments, Alyson forgot that they were being held in captivity at all. For the briefest few seconds, she forgot about the man waiting for them on the other side of the door.

**I'm terribly sorry that there wasn't any action in this update. I know I promised more team interaction. Guys… real life just came and gave me a massive slap in the face, and as much as I'd like to type about it on here (I feel that you awesome reviewers and fanfic itself is my therapy group) I won't waste your time with my dramatics, but please know that I had a good reason for taking so long, and that I will never abandon this story. Much love to all of you; seriously.**

**Sadly, I don't have time to respond to all the reviews but please know that I appreciate each and every single one of them with all that I have! I absolutely promise a long and amazing next chapter (it's already in the works!) so please stick by me; I promise you won't be disappointed!**

**One of the reviewers (koolis) asked me how long Spencer and Alyson had been held captive, and I realised that it was definitely confusing! Hence, why I've started numbering the days. I've made these changes to all the previous chapters as well. So thanks to koolis! I think it makes a lot more sense to both you guys and myself as well.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine**

**Hey guys. I can't even begin to say how sorry I am. It's not that I forget about this story, but I genuinely haven't had the time. I'm averaging at spending 12 hours a day on campus, five days a week. Add the 2 hours travel time and then all the work when I get home I haven't even had time to sleep! Thank you all for your amazing reviews and support. They mean the world to me and ensure that I will always stick with this story 3 Hope this doesn't disappoint.**

***Note* I have not had time to edit this, so I apologise for any errors, but I assume that you would have preferred this update sooner rather than later.**

**Day 4 (Continued)**

"Alright Mister Roberts -"

"Samuel."

"Samuel." J.J. began. "I have you on speaker with six agents including myself. As I mentioned earlier, we're all working tirelessly to find your daughter, and so any and all help that you can provide us with would be much appreciated."

"Of course! But I'm not entirely sure of what you want me to say? I didn't even know my daughter was missing until you called me!"

"Please Samuel, we need you to be as calm as possible so that we can get as much important information from you as we can. We'll guide you through this and ask you a number of questions, okay?"

The entire team heard the tired, devastated sigh on the other end of the line, and though they couldn't have seen him do it, they somehow knew that Samuel Roberts rubbed his weary eyes; his hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose whilst he tried to control his teeming emotions.

"Okay."

J.J. smiled at the strength of the man on the phone before the entire team began to bombard him with questions, each member as desperate as the one beside them to get as much information on their youngest, and the woman who was trapped in the same nightmare with him, as possible.

"Samuel." Hotch started. "Can you tell me what kind of a person Alyson is? Is there anything you feel important to mention about her personality? Her behavior?"

Samuel emitted a wary laugh at that question before he began to describe his daughter in loving detail. "Alyson's a very quiet and private girl. She likes her space, and gets agitated very quickly when someone invades it..." The team looked at each other in alarm but otherwise said nothing. That didn't bode well for the nature of her and Spencer's captivity - especially considering the fact that Spencer had the same quirk...

"… I think that has a lot to do with her mother leaving when she was five."

There was a certain emotion in his voice then; a kind of unidentifiable sadness that made J.J's heart swell. It seemed like Alyson and Spencer had a lot more in common than any of them could have previously thought. She wondered if that was preempted or simply a coincidence? J.J. pushed the thought to the back of her mind, resolute to bring it up and discuss it with the team later.

"She couldn't understand how her mother could have just left her," Samuel Roberts continued, "and so she always kept people at a distance after that."

"Why did she leave?" Morgan piped up.

Again Samuel sighed on the other end of the line. "Truthfully, I don't even know myself, but I think it all boils down to where and how we lived."

"What do you mean by that?" Rossi asked.

"Well I don't know how much you know about North Dakota, but I can assure you that the town I live in is tiny. Tiny and rural, and Tina hated that. It just so happens that Aly hated that too."

"Alyson was unhappy with her life in North Dakota?" Hotch affirmed.

"Why else move all the way to Virginia?"

Hotch nodded his understanding and listened as Samuel continued. "You're the F.B.I., so I'm sure that you already know that things here are a struggle. Tina was sick of the financial burden and how much we all had to work just to try and keep afloat. Like me, she's also from New York, and she just couldn't adjust to the change in lifestyle the way I could."

"I hope you don't mind me asking," Morgan began, "but if money's so tight, how is it that Alyson was able to move to Virginia in the first place?"

Samuel smiled on the other end of the line before he spoke again. "Alyson's a remarkable child, though I'm sure you've heard many parents say that about their children." He grimaced slightly at the thought of all the parents who had been in the same situation as him before he continued on. "She didn't have friends in North Dakota, and so she spent her time indoors, reading or studying, and if she wasn't doing that she was working – odd jobs and the like, anything that would guarantee her extra money. She was, and still is, an incredibly smart and resourceful girl. She knew that the only way she was going to get out of that stick of a town was by getting a scholarship and earning the money for the travel and living expenses herself; and that's exactly what she did."

"You must be incredibly proud." Rossi said.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't."

"If you don't mind me asking," Rossi continued, "why Quantico? Why Virginia."

They heard a humorous sigh from the other end of the line. "That's a story completely in of itself; but the summarized version is that Aly went on a school trip there and the surrounding areas for history or art class or something like that, I can't quite remember. We both worked hard for that trip let me tell you, but I knew from the moment she returned that she was enamored. She couldn't stop talking about the people and the buildings and the hustle-and-bustle. I think I knew that she was going to move there even before she did."

"Why North Dakota?" Morgan asked. "I don't want to sound presumptuous, but you sound like an educated, successful man. Why the sudden switch?"

A weary sigh was emitted over the speaker of the phone, and the entire team knew that Morgan had touched on a sensitive subject. "To explain the full story to you would take hours, and I'm certain you're able to access my medical history if you wanted to, but looking into all of that will waste valuable time. I was successful in New York, but then I got sick, and the cost of my medical bills pretty much took away all of the money Tina and I had invested. I was counseled by my Doctor to move out of the city, to a rural area with fresh air and no pollution. North Dakota was where he suggested, so North Dakota is where I went. The move there pretty much dried up any savings that we had left, and I've been living on the borderline ever since. Well, at least until before Alyson started working."

"Excuse me?" Prentiss asked.

"She started sending me monthly cheques as soon as she graduated from university and got a job at the hospital. I've told her numerous times that I don't want it, I didn't even cash the cheques, but then she just started doing it electronically and I have no idea how those things work…"

"She sounds like a wonderful person Samuel." J.J. said sympathetically.

"She is. She…" Suddenly and without warning, Samuel found himself choking back a sob. "Please… I know you're busy but… she's my little girl. She's my entire world. Please… find her. Please find her!"

"Mister Roberts." Hotch intervened. "As Miss Jareau informed you earlier this morning, one of our own F.B.I. agents has been taken along with your daughter and they are being held together. He is highly experienced and intelligent beyond his years. I can assure you that he will keep her safe, while work tirelessly to ensure that we bring them both home. Do you understand me?"

There was a painful silence over the phone's speaker before a pitiful "yes" was murmured out.

"Good." Hotch stated formally. "Now Mister Roberts, I have to ask you again, is there any possible way for you to come to Virginia to –"

"I already told you!" Samuel Roberts cried out in distress. "I don't have the resources. I want to be there. I need to be there, but I just don't have the means. Maybe I could –"

"That's quite alright Samuel." J.J. interjected. "I will call you at least twice a day to keep you updated with the investigation and forward to you any queries that we may have. I'll be sure to call before you start work in the morning and once you're home in the evening."

"Th-thank you. Thank you." He choked out, and the entire team's hearts swelled at the trauma and emotion emanating from the man who wasn't even in the same state as them.

"We will bring them home." Hotch said, and it was the last thing Samuel Roberts heard before he hung up.

Somehow he knew that the Unit Chief was speaking the truth.

O-O-O-O-O

The day had worn on slower than she thought it would, but even through her boredom Alyson had refused to move. This was the first time that Spencer was actually getting the rest that he deserved, and she'd be damned if she ruined it by moving to get off of the bed, even though her back had begun to ache hours ago and her stomach growled wretchedly at her – unimpressed that she had withheld food from it for so long.

She ran her fingers through the young agent's hair and watched the shadows as they shifted with the sun. She judged it to be the afternoon by the cast of the lines, though she couldn't be sure how early or late in the afternoon it was – she had no doubt that Spencer would know.

As her thoughts turned to the man whose head was lying her lap, she looked down to find that his eyes were beginning to slowly flutter open. She waited for him to orientate himself before smiling at him as he focused his gaze.

"Afternoon sleepy head." She said good-naturedly.

Immediately his eyebrows knitted together, and he looked at her for only a moment longer before he sat up quickly.

"Whoa!" Alyson exclaimed, moving her head away from his own, avoiding the head-butt that would have resulted from his movement. "Easy." She said quickly, seeing him sway slightly from where he sat, courtesy of the blood-rush to his head no doubt.

"Are you -"

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Spencer all but demanded, turning to look at her, exhaustion clear in his eyes. Alyson openly gaped at him, confused about his hostile tone.

"E-excuse me?"

"You should have woken me up!"

"B-but why?" She stuttered, totally confused about why he appeared to be so angry.

The young agent seemed to gnash his teeth together in frustration at her response, a gesture which looked to Alyson like he was trying to clamp down his irritation..., a gesture which made her sit up a little straighter - completely defensive.

"Why?!" He questioned loudly, his voice rising in pitch and intonation. "Because he could have come in at any moment, that's why!"

He only had to see the slightest flash of guilt cross Alyson's eyes before he followed her flickering gaze and looked to the door of their room, where the breakfast tray lay untouched; cold and stark in the silence that had descended upon them.

Spencer whirled around quickly to face her. "Alyson!"

"What?!" She said exasperatedly. "What do you want from me Spencer?! You're tired, you fell asleep, I didn't wake you up because you need to rest! It's not a big deal!"

"Of course it's a big deal!" He said right back, turning so that he was facing her fully. "Alyson, he could have done anything when he was in here! And I wouldn't have been able to have prevented it with my eyes closed and my conscious completely unaware!"

"Oh my god! I'm not an invalid Spencer! I can handle myself! I don't need you to watch over me every waking hour of every waking day!"

He looked away from her in frustration and then climbed off of the bed, clenching his fists at his sides and walking to the middle of the room. He didn't like conflict, he hated it. But he was feeling just so… so angry, so irritableand he wasn't really sure as to why. He knew he wasn't angry with Alyson; he was only acting out on her because she was the only other person in the room. But at the same time… he did have to watch over her; he had to protect her; not because it was his job, but because he wanted to, he needed –

"What's with you today?" Alyson asked from the bed, her concern slightly masked by her annoyance. Clumsily, she clambered off of the bed before standing beside it and stretching to her full height and appraising him defiantly – trying to be intimidating.

The picture reminded Spencer of a petulant five-year-old, and though she was trying to be fierce and determined she only came across as adorable and comical… and that was why he had this innate need to protect her, because she looked just too damn breakable.

"– Hello? Earth to Spencer!" Alyson's voice interrupted him rudely. She was waving her hand in front of his face and it was only then that he realized that she had moved to stand in front of him without him even noticing it.

"What?" He asked, shaking his head slightly as he came back to reality.

"I asked you what's wrong. I know I haven't known you for a long time, but you don't exactly come across as the kind of person who would snap at someone for no apparent reason. Is it your migraine? Does it still hurt?"

Now that she mentioned it, it did still hurt, agonizingly so in fact, and he was sure that it hadn't been that bad when he had woken up, though clenching his jaw as much as he was probably wasn't helping any.

"Yeah." He said, thankful that she had provided him with the perfect scapegoat. "Yeah it is." And he gripped his hair firmly before moving towards the bed and perching himself on its edge.

It was a lie. It wasn't just the migraine. Sure, it was a contributing factor, but what his anger and irritation really boiled down to was what had occurred in the hallway the previous night. Alyson probably wouldn't remember it, she probably hadn't even given it a second thought; but the way she had asked for his permission, the way she had apologized for doing something that should have been the option of her own free will… it unsettled him, and he despised that he was being forced to take on that role, he resented their captor for making him be that person.

He was yanked out of his musings when tiny hands grasped the sides of his face and shook him ever so slightly. "Are. You. Okay?" Alyson intoned, concern plastered to her face. She started fussing over him, feeling his forehead for a fever and peering at his pupils. Though his heart was warmed at the action, he still found that a mass wave of irritation flared up inside of him; he felt entirely too claustrophobic, and Alyson hovering over him, not even giving him time to think was starting to grate his nerves.

He was about to voice his disapproval when the door leading to their room slammed open without warning – neither of the pair having even heard the clinking of the locks moving out of place.

As soon as he lifted his head and saw the Unsub standing in the doorway his heart sank. No. He hadn't had time to prepare Alyson for this; he hadn't even had time to think about it himself!

Alyson moved her hands away from Spencer's face and chose to cross them in front of her chest instead, scowling at their captor. "What now?!" She demanded in exasperation, annoyed that she and Spencer had been interrupted.

The man glowered at her menacingly, and Spencer could do nothing but sigh and run a hand across his tired eyes before standing up and beside Alyson.

This was really the last thing that he felt like having to contend with right now.

He saw the Unsub appraising both Alyson and himself with distaste… clearly not satisfied with the way that they were dressed. Alyson was still in her pajamas, and he had yet to change out of the formal wear that he had been dressed in the night before.

Spencer saw the man calculating his next move, and it only took the Unsub taking a step towards Alyson before Spencer surprised himself by jumping into action and grabbing her hand. She startled at the unexpected gesture but firmly held his hand back. Without a second thought as to what he was doing, the young agent took a step forward, and then another – knowing that Alyson would follow his lead – before walking towards the Unsub, ignoring the way he quickly raised his gun threateningly but not being able to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest.

He knew what the Unsub would want; he knew where they would go; so why prolong the inevitable? With the young physiotherapist in tow, Spencer walked through the door with a preempted mask of ease; not even giving the Unsub so much as a backwards glance as he walked past him. It took all he had in him not to turn around quickly when he heard movement from behind.

The young agent felt Alyson squeeze his hand more tightly, latching onto his arm with her other hand. She tried her best to match his stride, but his long legs were carrying him at a furious pace that she couldn't possibly hope to match - courtesy of the rage that was silently brimming beneath his false composure. He could only assume that her sudden change in demeanor was due to the burly man closing the door shut behind them and following the two of them… too close for Alyson's liking it would seem.

Gently, Spencer pulled her forwards, unconsciously creating a barrier with his body between her and the Unsub, herding the three of them towards the room they had been in the previous night at a swiftly calculated pace that only he could have managed; and for the first time since he had been taken, he began to wonder who exactly was really in charge here. The Unsub seemed at a loss of what to do; not entirely sure of how to handle Spencer's blossoming aggression, yet clearly irritated by its appearance. Why wasn't he acting on that irritation?

Spencer didn't have time to dwell on the thought though, as no sooner had it entered his mind did he find himself approaching the door to the designated room. He reached for the handle and turned it without even batting an eyelid – eager to get his and Alyson's torture for the day over with, and intrigued as to how far he was able to push the limits of the Unsub.

The door opened easily with a push from his hand, and he looked down at Alyson for the first time since they left their room so that he could gesture for her to go in before him. Her eyes well filled with both worry and concern. Had he managed to look into them for a moment longer, he would have seen the fear that she was so desperately trying to hide.

She walked past him, trying to catch his gaze, her eyes beseeching him not to do anything rash or foolish, but he stubbornly refused to meet them, and her heart sank with every step that she took whichbrought her into the room.

She didn't know what had happened to make Spencer so uncharacteristically angry and withdrawn, but she knew that his boiling temper would only result in one reaction from their captive, and her stomach reeled at the thought. She swallowed quickly, trying to quell her nerves before she turned around to appraise the two men behind her.

The scene she was met with practically brought tears to her eyes, petrified with fear and sick with worry, she was not ready to see Spencer and their captor, standing directly opposite each other and glowering with such barely concealed rage that she could have sworn the Unsub would pull the trigger there and then. Spencer stood with his hands in his pockets, a distinct look of disgust on his handsome face, his eyes letting the other man know exactly what he thought of him.

"Spence?" Alyson ventured, wanting to get him as far away from the other man as possible. It took a moment for him to turn his head and acknowledge her, but once he dragged his eyes away from their captor and looked to her, he blinked a couple of times as if only seeing her for the first time that day.

Alyson furrowed her eyebrows at his strange behavior, at his somewhat... warped disconnect from reality; but with the slight flexion of her hand she managed to get him to stand beside her and away from the Unsub; and she supposed that, in situations like this, it was the small victories which counted.

"Spence." She said again, holding out her hand for him to take. "Come on." And though he wasn't entirely sure as to why he did it, he took her outstretched palm and allowed her to lead him towards the table that had been set up – the same one that they had been forced to sit at the night before.

The young profiler rolled his eyes before he could stop himself; the Unsub certainly wasn't getting any bonus points for originality.

"Something wrong?" The hostile man interjected rudely.

Spencer looked up at him disinterestedly and quirked an eyebrow. "Nothing." He said stiffly. "Just a pathetic sense of déjà vu." He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "Can't possibly imagine what caused it."

"You –"

"Oh my word Spencer!" Alyson interrupted the Unsub excitedly. Both of the men turned to look at her as soon her voice bounced off of the walls. The physiotherapist hardly noticed their reactions… she was too busy pulling Spencer's arm into an awkward half hug and dragging him closer towards the table. "I can't believe you remembered that I mentioned how much I love this place!"

Spencer looked at her in confusion before registering what it was that she was trying to do.

"I've really hit the jackpot." She cooed robotically, eyes darting to their captor before finding his face again. "Thank you so much for being so considerate. Do you want to sit down?"

She didn't give him much of a choice, practically pushing him towards his chair and forcing him to sit down in it. Smiling at him warmly, she then moved around to the other side of the table and sat herself down; her smile quickly turning into a frown when she saw Spencer sigh wearily and run a hand over his tired eyes. He really did not look good… the tight clenching of his jaw being a testament to this.

There was a tense, heavy silence, during which Spencer looked like he might pass out, but he managed to compose himself just long enough to look at the table and identify the objects that rested upon it.

"Would you like some coffee?" He croaked, peeking at Alyson through his fingers.

"I'd love some!" She said happily, the false smile on her face wearing her down far more than she thought it would. Seeing Spencer reach for the coffee pot with such painstakingly obvious lethargy was about all she thought that she would be able to bear.

The young agent tried to smile back at her as he poured her coffee, but really it came out more like a grimace, and the smile dropped from face almost as quickly as it had come. She watched as he poured his own cup, a few stray droplets falling from the pot and she couldn't take it anymore. "Are you okay?" She whispered quickly.

He jumped at the sound of her voice and spilled some coffee onto the tablecloth. Alyson noticed the man glare at the back of Spencer's head unhappily and immediately she spurred into action. "Sorry Spencer! I'm such a klutz! You didn't get any on you did you?"

She began to dab at the spillage with her napkin and squeezed Spencer's hand as she did so, trying to reassure him that it was okay. He looked from the spillage to her hand and then back gain, his seemingly disorientated expression morphing into a mask of annoyance and Alyson frowned self-consciously. For some reason, her behavior seemed to be upsetting him, and she would have been lying if she said that it didn't bother her.

Hurt, she looked up at him, but instead of glowering down at her he had turned to look over his shoulder to glare at the Unsub instead. It was only then that she noticed that he had begun to squeeze her hand back.

"Spence -"

"Is there something that you would like to say?" The young profiler demanded of their captor.

"What did you say?!" The volatile man asked aggressively, taking a menacing step forwards as he did so.

"I didn't say anything; I asked if there was something that you would like to say? I can't exactly see you when you cower behind me, but judging from Miss Roberts' reaction, I imagine that you did something to suggest your discontent."

He felt Alyson pinch his fingers lightly in warning, but he ignored her in favor of antagonizing the Unsub. Spencer knew better than this, he knew that he should not be provoking the man and he knew that he was being a hypocrite for doing the very thing that he had accused Alyson of doing previously. But he didn't care. His head pounded, his eyes were heavy and his entire body was weary. He was sick of walking on eggshells. Sick of feeling so drawn thin and sick of having to sit there, hour after hour, seeing Alyson terrified out of her mind and feeling like he was entirely too inadequate to help her and get the two of them through this ordeal in one piece.

The Unsub looked like he wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger on his gun and be done with the two of them there and then, but then he noticed Alyson rubbing Spencer's forearm in a vain attempt at soothing him, and he seemed to snap out of whatever incensed rage he had found himself in - the threat of the trigger being pulled appeared to have had the same effect on Spencer as well.

"Just drink your coffee." The Unsub said gruffly, and that was the end of that.

Spencer turned around and looked at Alyson apologetically. She smiled at him and gave his arm one last pat before unwinding her fingers from his. The two of them looked to the coffee in their mugs and then back to each other; and with a toast that was had with their eyes, they picked their mugs up from their handles and brought the rims to their lips.

It only took a moment. The coffee just needed to fall past their lips before both captives were crinkling their faces in disgust and Alyson began spluttering. She had tried coffee years ago and hadn't liked it. She thought that she might be able to grin and bear it on this occasion, but with this particular brew, it was next to impossible. Though she was clearly not an expert, she was positive that this coffee was revolting; judging from the expression on Spencer's face, he found it just as putrid as she did.

Though she wasn't entirely sure as to how she managed, Alyson swallowed her mouthful and watched, through watery eyes, as Spencer did the same. The young agent looked entirely disgusted at what he had been forced to drink, and Alyson was about to say something to help ease the tension in the room when the Unsub interrupted her rudely.

"It's not polite for a woman to drink in such a crude manner."

Spencer slammed his mug down and whirled around faster than Alyson's eyes could comprehend, and before she knew what was happening his outraged voice was assaulting her ears.

"It's not polite for her captor to lace her coffee with battery acid either!"

The Unsub was on Spencer in a split second; holding him at an awkward angle by the scruff of his collar and pushing the muzzle of the gun against his temple. "Don't think that because I haven't fired a shot yet that it means that I never will." He whispered into the agent's ear, grinding out each syllable with such fragmented control that Spencer involuntarily shivered – it was obvious that the man was not bluffing.

Their captor leaned back and looked Spencer the eyes before releasing him roughly and throwing him into the back of his chair. Alyson jumped when she heard a harsh smack as Spencer's back collided with the back of the chair. She would have burst into tears right that second had the agent not looked to her quickly to assure her that he was fine. It didn't do much to quell her tears though, and she had to bite her bottom lip to prevent herself from letting them fall.

Vacantly, Spencer picked up his mug and took another gulp, throwing his head back once his mouth was full in a manner that suggested that he was taking a shot of alcohol rather than a sip of coffee. It dawned on Alyson, as she sniffed the liquid over the rim of her mug, that the comparison couldn't have been more apt – the coffee tasted just as vile.

"I'm sorry I'm not much company today." Spencer said wearily. Alyson startled slightly but otherwise said nothing. "I haven't been feeling too well lately."

Seeing an opportunity, Alyson responded almost too enthusiastically. "Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that Spencer. You should have told me and we could have rescheduled. What's wrong, if you don't mind me asking?"

He smiled at her, pleased that she had caught on so quickly. "I suffer from terrible migraines, and I can't seem to find my medication."

"Oh I see. What's the name of the medication? Maybe I –"

"As enlightening as your conversation is, that coffee isn't going to drink itself."

Spencer closed his eyes and gnashed his teeth together in absolute frustration. All he was trying to do was make it known that his head was killing him so that he could get some form of painkiller. More specifically the right form of painkiller, so that either the Unsub, or hopefully their accomplice, would have the decency or maybe even the sense to give it to him.

It took all of the self-control he had in him not to turn around and snap at the burly man behind him. He ran his fingers through his long hair instead and picked up his coffee; but he put it down only moments later when he caught the scent of the acrid stench wafting from it.

The young agent looked up and his eyes widened when he saw Alyson. She had her mug pressed tightly to her lips, her throat moving rapidly as she gulped and gulped and gulped until she had downed her entire mug before Spencer could even realize what was happening. She slammed her mug down onto the table once she had emptied it and screwed up her face in what could only be described as revulsion and disgust; trying her utmost best to keep the coffee down and prevent it from making a return appearance.

"I'm not sure…" She coughed, spluttering slightly as her throat burned. "… why I love this place so much… I think it's because… the coffee… is so – so unbelievable."

"I know." Spencer said. "It's so unique; I can't actually find it in me to finish my cup."

Alyson tried to warn Spencer that that was exactly what he shouldn't have said; because it was in that moment that the Unsub made it clear to her that he was not at all happy with the agent's attitude or how Spencer had yet to finish his ice-cold mug.

"Oh I know what you're doing!" Alyson interjected quickly. "You know how much I love it so you're letting me have some of yours as well. How kind of you!" And with that she reached across the table and grasped Spencer's mug by the handle… only to be confronted with a monstrous hand clamping down on her forearm, causing her to let out an involuntary cry of pain.

Though her eyes were scrunched shut, Alyson heard the distinct scraping of a chair before she heard the harsh slap of skin-on-skin and felt the added pressure of another hand on her arm. She opened her eyes and saw that Spencer had stood up. He was leaning over the table menacingly, his hand latched onto the Unsub's where he held Alyson's forearm and his eyes were glowering with rage, seething into the Unsub's own.

"That," Spencer intoned acidly, "is something I won't stand for." His eyes seemed to grow harder, the anger clear in his hazel orbs. He stood to straighten himself so that he was taller, and leaned over their captor, encroaching on his space and appearing entirely too threatening. "Let her go, before I make you."

And to the shock of every person standing in the room, the fingers around Alyson's arm unwrapped themselves faster than a sonic boom and dropped to rest at the Unsub's side.

The man's emotions flitted across his face too quickly for the young agent to register, but the burly man before was not his concern. Spencer looked back at Alyson and went to stand closer beside her. It didn't take much to see that she was barely holding it together.

He looked at the Unsub and immediately took a step back, bringing Alyson with him. The man appeared to have gotten over his shock. The confusion and surprise gone from his features and replaced with embarrassment and anger instead – not a good combination when induced in a man as unstable as him.

Their captor took step forwards and Alyson and Spencer took a step again, the three of them staring at each other through the thickness of the silence around them… until another step was taken and then another; until, finally, the man stopped walking altogether, and his black eyes looked at each of them in turn.

"Get back to your room. Now."

Alyson and Spencer ran.

**Now, I know you'll all want to kill me, but fret not! This was actually meant to be a double update as an apology gift to everyone, but I was taking too long and wanted to give you all something. Also my internet isn't working, so I'm actually updating from the gym :/ I hope that this doesn't take away from the quality!**

**I'm so sorry that I don't have time for comments, but please know that I love and appreciate everyone who reads this story. Your reviews are gold 3**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Day Four (Continued)**

She couldn't bring herself to be surprised that their door was unlocked. She couldn't even bring herself to be surprised that their captor had not followed them. She had been trapped for four days now, almost five if she thought about it, and she had yet to see such unadulterated rage pass over that man's face. The same could be said for Spencer too, she realised. Though it was ridiculous for Alyson to assume that she knew the profiler after only four days, she was positive that she was a good enough judge of character to know that such an outburst was not a common part of his personality. He was behaving as uncharacteristically as she was in the situation, allowing the stress of their captivity to get to him, and it was unsettling her to no end. He was supposed to be the professional… he was supposed to be the one familiar with these situations.

"Look Spence –"

"I'm sorry okay! You don't have to give me the lecture! I know that I –"

"Whoa." Alyson said, raising her hands up in front of herself in surrender. "I wasn't going to lecture you. I just wanted to say that –"

"What? That I'm an idiot? That I'm supposed to be a genius yet I'm so unbelievably stupid?!"

"Spencer I didn't say –"

"I know I shouldn't have said any of that stuff but it's like… like I couldn't stop myself you know?"

"Spence –"

"Like the more I told myself to calm down the more irritated I got? I'm sorry I let you down Alyson. I'm so sorry that –"

"Spencer SHUT UP!"

The young agent suddenly halted his frantic pacing and looked up at her in shock. She had never raised her voice to him before. It was only when he stopped walking, only when he stopped his hurried musings that he realised how hard he was breathing – to the point of hyperventilation.

Alyson hurried over to him when he brought a hand up to rest against his temple.

"Easy." She said, grasping his arm and pulling it away from his head. "Come, you need to sit down."

Spencer had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain of his migraine, but he followed Alyson trustingly as she led him to one of the couches in the room. Immediately he sat down and then spread himself out until he was lying on it fully, his arm coming to rest over his eyes. He heard Alyson turn off the lights in their room and immediately he was grateful.

The room was silent after that, in which Spencer only hearing the buzz of tinnitus as it pulsed in his ears in time with his rearing migraine. He knew the silence was Alyson hesitating, that she was building up her nerve, until…

"Spence…"

"Please." He croaked, licking his lips and swallowing heavily. "Please not now. I can't… I just can't even think."

Alyson nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her do so. She looked around their room helplessly, eyes bouncing to and from his form on the couch before an idea struck her. It wasn't a coincidence that their door was unlocked… was it too much to hope that their plan had worked?

"I'm just going to check the bathroom again for anything that might help." She told him, not at all surprised when she didn't receive so much as a shrug in way of answer.

Walking towards the bathroom, the young physiotherapist couldn't help but cross her fingers in the hopes that the accomplice had caught on to what they were doing in the other room.

A smile instantly broke out across her face when she passed the threshold leading into the bathroom. On the countertop next to the sink lay a box of medication that she was familiar with. She picked it up without hesitation before quickly scanning the insert to check that it was what she thought it was.

She placed the insert back into the box and returned to the couch where Spencer lay, yielding the box in the air to show off her victory. The young man didn't move to show that he had heard her return, but Alyson knew that he was awake because of his laboured and uneven breathing.

"Look what I found." Alyson sing-songed, only to receive an annoyed huff from the other side of the couch. "Hmmm…" She sighed in mock-disappointment. "You would think that the woman who held the power of taking away your migraine would receive a more enthusiastic response than that."

Curious, Spencer moved his arm slightly so that he could peek at Alyson from under it. His tired eyes widened as soon as he saw the box of medication grasped in her dainty hand. His excitement, however, quickly turned to disappointment, when he realised that the odds of the medication being non-narcotic were next to none. He had yet to come across a truly useful non-narcotic migraine reliever that actually did the job and didn't put him danger of relapse – aside from his own medication of course. No, what Alyson held in her hand would not be useful at all, with the worst part being that he would have to lie to her to get out of taking it. He couldn't tell her the truth… he couldn't tell her what had happened. Not here, not under these circumstances.

"It's okay." He said eventually. "It's really not that bad anymore."

Alyson narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. His voice was far too strained and his face far too scrunched up for him to be experiencing anything but pain. Add his short temper and uncharacteristic behaviour to the mix and she knew he was lying.

She didn't say anything, turning around to head back to the bathroom instead and leaving Spencer to wonder what she was up to. The young agent didn't have to wait long, as no sooner had she disappeared was she back again with a glass of water in her hand.

"Here." She said, handing him the glass. He took it hesitantly, not liking the thought of the confrontation that he knew they were about to have. She sat down next to him and began fiddling with the box.

"Alyson –" Spencer tried, but the young woman just shushed him and continued to fiddle with the box. He sighed before attempting again.

"Aly –"

"Spencer…" She threatened him warningly. "Don't."

He looked away from her quickly and began wracking his brains for a solution of what he could do to get him out of the situation that he had found himself in. He absolutely could not tell her. He hated to admit it but he really felt as if he had found a friend in Alyson. Not just a friend but a friend who he considered a confidante. She was so lovely to him and had such a high opinion of him that he didn't want to shatter her perceptions with the truth. He didn't want to shatter any hope that he thought he may have had with her. She would never look at him the same way if she knew, and he absolutely could not handle that.

"Here." Alyson's voice broke through his reverie. He shook his head slightly and turned to appraise her, looking into her eyes then down at her palm, to where two tablets sat. He looked back at her eyes and suddenly he felt… scared.

"Aly…"

"Spencer." She said agitatedly. "Please. Just… take them." And she thrust them into his palm and held them there for good measure.

His eyes never broke contact with hers, begging her, screaming at her to understand. _I can't._

"You can take them Spencer." She said quietly, giving his hand and gentle and understanding squeeze. "You can take them. They're non-narcotic".

O-O-O-O-O

"I think I may have found us a lead!" Penelope Garcia's excited voice sounded over the cell phone's speaker.

"What is it Garcia?" Hotch asked, relieved that they were finally gaining helpful information on the case.

"It would appear that every single one of our female victims graduated from Georgetown University."

"Well that's interesting." Morgan stated. "Garcia, what about the male victims?"

"That would be a negative my sweet. Aside from only one of the above listed male victims, they've all pretty much graduated from different universities across the States, our own Baby Genius included."

"So Alyson Robert's went to Georgetown? Does that match what her father told us?"

"It does." J.J. affirmed. "Do you think that means that our Unsub went to Georgetown? It would provide him with the perfect opportunity to scout out and stalk the female victims?"

"Yeah, but most of the victims, Alyson included, are graduates of the University, I doubt any of them have been on campus for at least a couple of years. Maybe he's a graduate himself?" Prentiss offered.

"Or maybe he couldn't get in." Rossi said. "Think about it, we're dealing with a sexist chauvinist who objectifies women. The thought of them attending, and _succeeding _in a University that he couldn't get in to? Sounds like the perfect catalyst to spark rage if you ask me."

"And rage is the key to this Unsub." Hotch finished. "Garcia, compile a list of the female victims and the programmes which they enrolled for and the degrees which they graduated with. Rossi and Prentiss will go ahead to the places of work of the victims to see if they can get any leads there. J.J. will continue conducting interviews with the families and liaising with Mister Roberts. Morgan and I will go to the University to see what we can find out."

"I'll have the list ready by the time you get there Sir."

O-O-O-O-O

"Wha… W-what?" Spencer stuttered, raking his hands nervously through his hair and averting his eyes in his discomfort to the glass he was holding in his hand.

"I said it was non-narcotic." Alyson repeated disinterestedly, ushering the glass towards his mouth in a gesture that suggested he drink from it.

"B-but…" Should he play dumb? "What do you mean?" Alyson only had to quirk her eyebrow for him to sigh and lower his eyes in defeat. "How did you know?"

"I had my suspicions. But the wine is what really did you in."

"But wouldn't it make more sense for you to just assume that I was an alcoholic? Based on that alone, I mean it would make more sense."

"I didn't base it on that alone."

Spencer looked up at her sharply. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. There were a few signs before last night that suggested it, but it was your hesitancy to drink the wine that really got me thinking. You're not the kind of person who would just let someone suffer without trying to help them, yet you didn't even try to pour yourself the same amount of wine in your glass to try and help me. That's not because you couldn't or didn't want to but because the stakes were high and it was something you couldn't risk. Then when I suggested that you undo the buttons on your sleeves and roll them up you freaked out. Watching you fiddle with the insides of your elbows, it didn't take much for me to put two and two together."

The young agent had bent further and further forward throughout her explanation, until he was forced to look up at her with pain-filled eyes swimming with humiliation.

"Don't do that." Alyson said firmly. "Don't be ashamed." She cupped his hand around the pills and gestured for him to take them. "Swallow those. They'll make you feel better. And please don't worry about any of this. It doesn't change who you are or what I make of you. If you want to talk about it that's fine, if you don't, well, that's fine too. It's your story; you shouldn't be forced to tell it."

He did as he was told, handing Alyson the empty glass once he was done, staring dazedly ahead as she scurried around the room and bathroom, righting everything that had been upturned as was her routine since their arrival. Eventually though, she ran out of things to do, and she made her way back to Spencer, who had still not moved from his sitting position on the couch.

"Hey." She said, leaning over him so that she could look into his eyes. "Do you want to lie down?" He looked at her blankly, trying to comprehend what she had said and then frowning when he realised that it was taking him far longer to rationalise than it should. She knew that this was a known side-effect of that particular medication; she had many patients who had used it, most of whom suffered the same side-effects upon the initial commencement of the pills.

When Spencer still did not answer her she took it upon herself to hoist him up and drag him over to the bed. A proper, pain-free sleep is exactly what he needed, and she would ensure that he got it. She helped sit him down and made to position him to lie down when he spoke.

"But still, how did you know? I mean that's guess-work at best." And he sat with such an adorable, genuine look of confusion on his face that she couldn't help but laugh… until he looked up at her, offended.

"How about you lie down and I tell you?"

The compromise seemed to work for him, and he lay down without complaint, turning his head to look at her expectantly. She walked around to her side of the bed and jumped on, turning to face him as she sat down cross-legged.

"It's simple." She said. "I worked in the public sector while I was studying, a lot of my patients were, and are, drug-addicts, I know what it looks like. I know the signs."

"Oh…" He said despondently, almost as if he hadn't meant for it to be audible, his face dropping in dismay.

"Do you want to know what else I know?" She said lightly, moving so that she could lie back on her pillows.

"What?"

"That everyone has a history, and no single person is omnipotent enough to judge someone else based on it – especially when you don't know the person, or the history behind them."

She saw the corners of his lips turn up slightly at her words, and though she wasn't entirely sure if he believed her or not, she thought that he knew that she didn't think any less of him, that she never could.

"Why do you think I started?"

"Uh-uh Spencer, I don't play that game, doesn't stick with what I just said you know." She turned her head and winked at him.

"Tease."

"What did you say?" She asked incredulously.

"Oh nothing." But he wore such a mischievous, dopey smile that she knew she had heard him. She decided that 'medicated' was a look that worked _very _well on him.

"I was kidnapped." He said suddenly. Alyson breathed in sharply but otherwise didn't say anything, though she did turn her head to appraise him. "I was kidnapped for two days by a man with Dissociative Identity Disorder. He took on the identities of his father, the archangel Rafael, and himself. His father was abusive; Rafael was a vigilante, and the man… Tobias… he… he did what he could to take the pain away."

"He drugged you."

Spencer ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, he did… Dilaudid."

Alyson nodded her head slowly. "Judging from your shame I'm guessing that it wasn't a one-time thing?"

He looked at her quickly, startled by her bluntness but appreciative of it nonetheless. "Definitely not. It took a while… but I beat it, and though I sometimes think about it, I've never gone back to it."

She smiled at him and patted his arm. "I'm glad; and you should be really proud of yourself you know, there truly aren't that many people out there who can say that they've been to the brink and found their way back – especially without help from anyone but themselves."

His face suddenly surged with heat and he looked down bashfully. "T-thanks… I mean thank you. I… I don't really know what to say."

"Don't say anything." The young physiotherapist replied. "Just close your eyes and try and relax, we need to get that migraine gone once and for all."

He smiled at her before doing as he was bid; closing his eyes and relishing in the peace and quiet of their room, feeling freer and far more lighter than he had since their arrival in the condemned hotel.

He was just on the precipice… on the very cusp of a serene and dreamless sleep when he heard the footsteps. Large, powerful and gaited, striding towards their room with purpose, right before their door was slammed open and the man was on Alyson, pulling her out of the room by the roots of her hair before the door was slammed shut once again.

With Spencer breathing heavily on the one side, and Alyson screaming on the other.

**Tannerose5: ****Thank you for the review and the critique! I'm sorry you found it confusing! I really took what you said into consideration when I wrote this chapter so I hope that there's improvement on that front :D Hopefully, this update is fast enough for you ;)**

**Annber03: ****Wow, waking up to see your review first thing in the morning really just made my day, and prompted me to sit down and write this out in one sitting, so kudos to you :D Your concern and well wishes mean the world to me so thank you! I am rather stressed :P but I have this week off :D so even though I have loads of work to do, I'm at least not waking up at 5am every morning which is AMAZING! Thank you so much for your review! And you reaction to everything is exactly what I wanted them to be when I wrote it so yay! And I'm glad you like Alyson! I hope you enjoy this update!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. If I didn't reply to you last chapter I apologise. For some reason, some of my reviews didn't show up until quite a while after they were posted… weird :/**

**Day Four (Continued)**

There was a moment… a certain terrifying and unblinking moment where he swore that he had gone mad.

Sounds morphed into one. Sensations morphed into one and, most terrifying of all, feelings morphed into one. Until he felt nothing but one continuous drone of panic as his adrenaline zoomed through his system and his entire body began to shake. He wasn't even completely sure as to how long it lasted, or what he had even done in that time. There were gaps in his memory so severe that he felt like his mind had been singed haphazardly – like cigarette burns all over a discarded carpet.

It was only later, once he had finally managed to calm himself down, that he saw the damage he had done to the room. Most of the furniture was upturned – some of it was even severed – and most shockingly of all were the planks of wood that littered the floor beneath one of the room's large windows. He had no recollection of throwing himself at them. Of pulling and pulling at the slats with every ounce of his strength to get to the world beyond, to find some way of reaching Alyson who had yet to stop screaming – sharp, piercing wails of agony that he swore his hearing would never be right again.

But he had come up empty. He had yanked and yanked, only to be met with a frosty draft and an unforgivably long drop down. And so he had waited. As quiet and unmoving as a stillborn child until, finally, the door opened and he thrust himself towards it in a fit of unspeakable rage.

He only had eyes for the Unsub. Though he had no plan and knew that he was no match in terms of physicality, Spencer had no other notion rolling in his head other than the idea that the man was hurting Alyson, and that he had to do something about it.

But that was before the man came to stand in the doorway, before he threw a tiny body to the floor to land in a crumpled heap, broken, bloodied and eerily silent. Immediately, Spencer halted his tumultuous onslaught, shocked into stagnation at the sight before him.

"Let that be your first and _only _warning." The Unsub said snidely, a proud and wicked smile curling his lips, before he gave a slight chuckle and closed the door, bathing Spencer in silence.

The young agent fell to his knees without hesitation and dread seeped into his bones like an icy wind on the coldest winter's day. Hesitantly, he lifted a shaky hand and touched his fingers to the pulse point on Alyson's neck. Relief totally invading him when he felt the movement – the pulse indicating that she was merely passed out and that her heart was still beating.

As if knowing that this touch was not going to hurt her, Alyson's eyes fluttered wearily and she groaned when she attempted to move.

"Don't!" Spencer said quickly, rushing to gently hold her down, stilling any further movement.

She flinched at the added pressure and immediately began pleading with him not to hurt her again.

"Alyson." Spencer said desperately. "Open your eyes. Alyson it's me, it's Spencer."

The young women stilled at the sound of his voice before opening her eyes slowly. She appraised him with a lazy and disorientated blink of her eyes, and he was suddenly thrust back to the memory of their very first meeting, where he had awoken her in that freezer on the night that had felt like a lifetime ago.

He knew she recognised him the moment her eyes widened in realisation. It was only a split-second later, when her expression of surprised relief crinkled into despair, and Alyson found herself sobbing heavily and gasping for air, the dirty carpet scratching her face with each breath she took.

His response was instinctual, and though he was adverse to many tactile stimuli – touch included – his hands found their way to Alyson's back, and then to her neck, where he hefted her up to lean against him as she cried away her hurts, his hands anchoring her to him as they stroked over her in the only measure of comfort that he knew how to give.

They sat there for a while, Alyson's sobs never once receding and Spencer's hands never once stopping until, eventually, he had to say something. He had wanted her to calm down a little first, but her injuries needed to be assessed and he couldn't wait any longer.

"Aly. We need to get you cleaned up. I need to see if everything's alright –"

"It's not."

Spencer didn't reply to her, because really, what could he say when she was speaking the truth?

"I know it's not." And they both knew that he wasn't just talking about her injuries. "Please. For me."

She sighed heavily at that and winced at the resultant pain that shot through her ribs. But she did try to sit up, and with his help, Alyson was able to sit back and look at him for the first time since she had been thrust into the room like dirty laundry.

Spencer closed his eyes and inhaled sharply at the sight of her face. He berated himself over and over again in his head for his utter stupidity, over and over for his carelessness, over and over like a mantra. It was the feather-light touch of hesitant fingertips upon his cheek that caused him to open his eyes. Alyson was looking at him intently… _intensely _with a concerned arch to her brow that made him want to frown. She was the one in pain, and she was concerned about _him._ The very idea made him want to turn his head away in self-loathing, but the fingertips wouldn't let him.

With the careful yet fragile look that only she could master, she began to speak, rasping each syllable as her whisper fell from her lips. "It's not your –"

"Don't." This time, he _did _mean for it to be as harsh as it sounded. "Don't say that it's not my fault. If you want what's left of my sanity to stay intact you won't say that." And so she didn't, but he could see in her eyes the solid conviction that he was not to blame, and that was just as bad as any audible admission.

He felt sick.

The profiler looked to her before adjusting his grip and making to stand, bringing some of her weight with him as he attempted to lift her up. She gave a sharp cry as the effort rattled her weary and aching bones, but she didn't stop herself or Spencer from raising her to her full height, until she could stand properly.

Spencer had no choice but to keep a protective arm around her as she lent on him for support, her injuries looking to be far more severe now that she had stood up compared to what he had previously thought they were when she had laid on the floor. It appeared that the Unsub had left no part of her unscathed and he clenched his jaw as his mind provided perfectly vivid images of her assault to match the memory he had of her screams.

Without a word spoken between them, they started the slow and painstaking process of walking to the bathroom, the journey feeling like hours for both captives, with Alyson gasping in pain at each step she took, and Spencer having to endure the residual effects of what those gasps meant – and it tore him up inside.

Eventually they made it to the bathroom, and Alyson collapsed onto the toilet seat with a thankful sigh; the relief at not having to walk over masking the pain that still thrummed within her skin. Spencer appraised her with medical precision before frowning and dropping his head hopelessly. He had absolutely no ideawhere to begin, each part of Alyson's body looking to be just as bad – if not worse – than the part that came before it.

He turned his back on her and began searching through the cabinets of the small bathroom, surprised when he found various bottles of antiseptic, as well as some plasters and bandages. Clearly they weren't the first couple to be on the receiving end of the Unsub's fury. Spencer shuddered at that thought before he turned back to Alyson. "What hurts the most?"

She snorted at that and looked up at him through rapidly swelling eyes. "Are you serious?"

He didn't answer her, but he grabbed the washcloth that was hanging off the side of the bath; deciding that her face was the first thing that needed to be cleaned up, mostly because he couldn't bear to look at it for a moment longer than he had to. Both of Alyson's eyes were swelling brutishly and a bruise was already forming on her left cheekbone. Her bottom lip had split, and there was so much blood around her mouth and nose that her skin wasn't even visible in those regions. It was all a testament to the pain that she had endured. It was all a testament to his failure.

"Here." He said, as he rinsed the cloth in water and knelt before her, bringing it to her face. She flinched slightly at the sensation and he brought his other hand up to steady her face. It didn't occur to him until once he started cleaning her face how truly intimate the action was. It prompted him to clear his throat audibly and caused his cheeks to redden; resulting in Spencer trying to do his utmost best to avoid Alyson's gaze and focus on the task at hand.

He needn't have worried, for Alyson was completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, or the intimacy of the movement. She was too busy schooling herself into sitting upright and trying her absolute best not to fall over with exhaustion. She was teetering on the edge of consciousness, just about to take the plunge into blackness when a slight jolt to her head caused her to back away from the precipice.

"- lyson… Alyson!" She heard Spencer's muffled yet frantic voice as it came into focus. He tilted her head so that she had nowhere to look but directly into his eyes. "You need to stay awake. You have a concussion."

"Mmph…" Was her only reply and even she grimaced at how whiney it sounded. "M'sorry." She mumbled as she tried to brace herself on the toilet seat and push up. The young physiotherapist immediately released a sharp hiss of pain as she felt her ribs sear with agony. Spencer bombarded her with an assault of questions, trying to assess her pain and localise where it was coming from.

She held up a shaky hand to quieten him and he instantly fell silent. "Please." She whispered. "Just give me a moment." And he waited patiently while she once again gained control of her breathing and evened it out to a steady pace.

Once he was confident that she had herself under control, Spencer moved towards the basin and rinsed out the cloth, flinching at the amount of red-coloured water that flowed down the drain. He kept his eye on Alyson as he went about his task, ensuring that she didn't fall asleep, before setting the cloth aside and returning to kneel before her once again.

"Do you think you can stand?" He asked tentatively.

For a moment she didn't respond, closing her eyes to breathe in deeply. He was about to berate her for falling asleep when she released the breath that she had been holding and opened her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah I think I can. But…" She swallowed thickly. "I think you might have to help me. Is… is that okay?"

She peeked at him from beneath her lashes and his stomach dropped. She was doing it again – asking for permission – and that worried him. It was one of the first signs that he had seen in a while that all of this was getting to her.

He lent forward and did something that was so uncharacteristic of him. He cupped her face in both of his palms and leaned so close to her that their noses were only a hair-width apart, their breath mingling together. "Alyson." He said seriously. "I am _so _sorry."

"It's not your –"

"You've been so brave and all I did was break my promise." She looked at him in confusion and he continued on. "I promised you, after that first night, that I would always keep you informed, that I would always prepare you. And not only did I not prepare you this time but I behaved foolishly. My behaviour put you directly in the line of fire and I cannot apologise enough to you for that."

"Spencer, you didn't –"

"But you have to listen to me." His grip tightened on her then. Not enough to hurt but enough to scare her into silence. "Never ask me for permission! Never ask me for permission because as soon as you do that you'll lose who are! And I'll lose who I am. You're not the kind of person who asks permission, no one should have to be. As soon as you ask you let him win, because that's exactly what he wants you to do. He wants you to lose your individuality. He wants to cripple you. He wants to make you a slave."

That was all Spencer had to say for Alyson's eyes to brighten with understanding. He didn't need to spell it out for her. She understood that for her to ask, was for her to give up.

"Promise me." He said firmly.

She answered instantly. "I promise."

He nodded at her, happy that he had managed to get the point across. "If you're alright to be in here alone, I think we should run you a bath so that you can get the rest of yourself cleaned up. At least then we'll actually be able to see what we're dealing with."

Alyson nodded her head but otherwise said nothing and so Spencer stood up to draw her a bath, ever mindful of the temperature and how it would feel against her tender skin. The young agent was aware of the silence as the water ran, but didn't feel the need to breach it given that they had both just had an incredibly trying day.

Once the bath was filled, Spencer turned back around and found Alyson sitting on the toilet seat, staring vacantly ahead, clearly deep in thought. He caught her attention by coming to stand in front of her, and they both agreed that he would help her up, at least until she got her balance, before leaving the bathroom to wait outside the door should she need him.

He had just righted her; allowed her to orient herself and ensure that she could stand on her own two feet before he turned and headed for the door.

Her voice stopped him before he could reach the threshold. "Spencer?"

He turned to appraise her, dreading that something was wrong. Instead, she surprised him. "Promise me that I'll never have to ask."

Though she said it with a slight smile, there was an edge to her eyes that was mirrored in his own, one which suggested the seriousness of her request.

He didn't have to think about it, didn't even have to consider his answer before he spoke it.

"You will never have to ask for my permission Alyson. That I can promise you."

He walked through the threshold and closed the door softly behind him.

**Okay, so at least I didn't leave you with an ugly cliff-hanged this time :P But the bad news is, my week of 'holiday' is up, which means back to University (torture) for me. I will try my ABSOLUTE best to update regularly, but I know better than to make promises at this point. But your continued support is much appreciated 3**

**People Person I'm Not: *****mortified* O_o *dies* I could NOT believe I made that mistake. When I read your review I was like Huh?! Where in the hell did Gabriel even come from?! So thanks for telling me. I changed it as soon as I saw it. Hehe, Spence was rather naughty wasn't he :P But hey, it had to happen sometime right :P Thank you for the compliment and thank you for reviewing 3**

**Coffee Kitten: ****Thank you so much! I really wanted to write something with him in the protector role because hardly anyone ever does! I just hope I'm doing the character justice! Thank you for your review!**

**OldiesGirlWithAPencil: ****Hehe I know ;) I really am a terrible person with the cliffhangers :/ I hope you enjoyed this update though and thank you for reviewing!**

**Jsoccer99: ****Thank you so much for reviewing! Your wish is my command :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**A/N: I'm a horrible person and I'm going to hell. I'm not going to waste your time giving you excuses, but rather apologise for the extremely long wait and solemnly swear that you will NEVER have to wait so long for an update again.**

**I really do hope you all enjoy and aren't disappointed.**

**Day Four (Continued)**

Spencer had never been one for the dramatic. The very notion of behaving so… ostentatiously was enough to make him squirm uncomfortably in his own skin, because the very idea of having that much attention, that much spotlight on him was just something that his personality couldn't begin to fathom.

Yet he had to admit that sitting in his upright foetal position, his head in his hands and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to the point of breaking – that he was behaving exactly like a petulant drama queen – especially considering that he wasn't even the one who had to bear the brunt of his own stupidity.

_His own stupidity. _He could hear the team laughing at the idea of it, but it didn't stop it from being true. He had behaved catastrophically stupid, and it had been Alyson who had paid for his actions. He wanted to tell himself that it would be the last time, that he would learn from his mistakes and never let them happen again; but how many times had he convinced himself of that fact only to find that he couldn't uphold his side of the bargain?

He shook his head feverishly and snapped himself out of his thoughts. Pity and self-loathing weren't going to help him now. He would have to try harder. He would have to be _better._

The opportunity to make good on his promise happened the very second he thought of it, because no sooner had the thought popped into his head was he forced to lurch himself from the couch and bolt towards the bathroom, due to what sounded like crashing and glass breaking, followed by a yelp of pain from Alyson.

He was about to wrench open the door before he fully realised what he was doing, stopping just in time to consider the fact that Alyson could be dressed… well… less than appropriately. He conceded to knocking on the door instead.

"Alyson? Are you alrigh –"

"No! No I'm not alright!"

"Can I come in?" But Spencer didn't wait for an answer before turning the handle on the door and tentatively walking into the bathroom.

Alyson sat, crouched next to the bathtub, cradling her hand that was stained red. The young F.B.I. agent only had to look at that shattered glass on the countertop beside her to surmise that she had lost her footing, her hand thrashing out to balance her, only to come into contact with the water glass instead.

Vaguely, Spencer considered that their captor really wasn't as smart as he thought he was, leaving something like a glass instead of a plastic cup that could be used as a weapon, but he was forced to leave his thoughts hanging when Alyson attempted to stand up, falling backwards when she lost her balance once again.

The profiler grabbed the nearest towel that his hand came into contact with, and he slumped to the floor before wrapping her hand, cleaning the blood off so that he could assess the damage. Aside from the occasional hiss or grunt of pain, Alyson didn't say or do anything while the young agent worked, only slightly registering his relieved expression at what she concluded meant that the damage to her hand wasn't extensive.

Then… of all the reactions that she could have had… she caught Spencer off-guard when she began to laugh. They were slight, soft chuckles at first, modulating and gaining staccato until she was howling with such barely concealed hysteria that Spencer could do nothing but stare at her with a completely dumbfounded expression on his face.

Riding out her wave of panic, Alyson began to catch her breath with the ending if each peal of laughter, before, finally, she managed to compose herself while a few stray droplets leaked from her eyes. She looked up at Spencer and smiled at him, half-joking and half-mocking. "At least we know that if he doesn't kill me then I'm perfectly capable of killing myself."

Spencer didn't reply to that, managing to see no fault in her argument, especially since he was also a catalyst to her sordid hypothesis.

"Come on." He said, raising her up to stand next to the bathtub. "Let's get you in and see what we're dealing with." His voice was completely nonchalant, but the pale flecks of red dusting his nose betrayed his discomfort at the notion.

Alyson couldn't find it in herself to tease him, too weary to really be embarrassed at what he was suggesting. She allowed him to help her out of her pyjama bottoms, but that was about as far as either of them were willing to go. Still dressed in her tank-top and her underwear, Spencer steadied Alyson as she lifted one leg and then the other and climbed into the bath, holding her firmly as she sunk down into the water, closing her eyes and sighing deeply in relief once she was fully submerged.

"Nothing like a warm bath to ease your muscles after a firm ass-kicking." She joked, peeking an eye open just in time to see Spencer grimace. "Come on it was a joke."

The young agent's only response was to seat himself back against the wall next to the tub, sliding to the floor and rubbing his hands over his tired face before planting them firmly in his hair. "Not funny, Alyson."

She looked up at the ceiling, contemplating his words for a moment before she replied. "No. I suppose it's not."

They were both silent for a while, the only sound filling the steamy echo of the bathroom being the occasional drop of water falling from the tap, which was quickly joined by the sound of Alyson, wiping down her wounds and scraping at the blood that had dried on her skin. The damage really wasn't very bad once the evidence of the attack began to be washed away. Nothing except her pride and sense of security was broken, though she knew that she would be in for some nasty bruising in the days to come.

Finished with her cleansing, Alyson appraised Spencer over the rim of the bath-tub, his eyes meeting hers which automatically prompted her to smile hesitantly. He smiled back, and her only wish was for the moment to continue. It was so personal, so intense that it was obvious that something had shifted between the two of them, and that she wasn't the only one who was feeling it. She was about to take the plunge, to take the step and a put a voice to the dangerous yet hopeful thoughts rattling around in her head when she heard the door to their hotel room slam open and Spencer shot to his feet.

"Stay here." He all but commanded, before he stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door shut behind him. Suddenly petrified, Alyson didn't immediately follow; instead she sat stock still, and listened to the low, hurried murmurs on the other side of the door. She began to worry when she heard what was undoubtedly an argument begin to heat up, and screamed suddenly when a gunshot rang out in the air.

Ignoring the pain of her wounds, she jumped out of the bath-tub and wrenched the door open, her only concern being for Spencer and the ever resounding hope that she was not about to find him lying on the floor of their hotel room in a pool of his own blood.

Dripping bathwater and shivering in the cold air, Alyson couldn't help the sigh of relief that passed through her lips when she saw Spencer standing in the adjoining room. He looked pissed… pissed and dishevelled, but he was alright. Their captor had only fired a warning shot.

Spencer looked at her disapprovingly and then moved to stand beside her, his footsteps pinched with the tension. The Unsub looked at them for a moment and then gestured towards the door of the room, as if the wave of his arm was enough to suggest what Spencer and Alyson were meant to do.

The young agent huffed in annoyance and then turned to Alyson in way of answer. "We have to go back and do it again. Properly this time."

O-O-O-O-O

The campus was beautiful, Hotch concluded, even though it had housed a serial killer and numerous victims; he would give it that much. Both he and Morgan made their way up a clear brick-paved path surrounded by neatly trimmed lawns towards the campus' main administrative building.

They were immediately assaulted by the Dean of the University, upon entering through the building's main doors.

"Agents." The man huffed out, clearly distressed as he raked a hand through his greying hair and thrust his arm out, shaking each of their hands in turn. "My office is just down the hall, if you could please follow me."

Both men did as they were bid, neither one wanting to add words to the mix and increase the Dean's anxiety further. They weren't given much of a choice; however, as no sooner did the aging man close the door behind them did he bombard them questions.

"Sir." Hotch began in his level-headed tone. "If you could please take a seat, we'll then explain to you our reasons for being here and hopefully determine a step forward." The man nodded at them intently and did as he was asked; looking up at the two agents expectantly after he did so.

"You are aware of the kidnappings that have been occurring in the Washington D.C. region?"

"Yes of course. It's been all over the news, especially since that F.B.I. agent was taken…" He trailed off as his eyes widened in realisation. "He's one of your men?"

"Yes, he is." Morgan interjected. "And believed to still be alive, so any information that you can provide us with would be most valuable."

The man nodded eagerly. "I will provide you with everything that I am able."

"And we appreciate that." Said Hotch. "We've been able to establish that the killer is abducting a certain type of woman. Young, smart, dependent, and they all studied here at Georgetown." The Dean inhaled sharply at that revelation. "Our technical analyst has managed to pull their records, and it appears that they all obtained degrees from Georgetown in the Health Sciences; several of our agents have gone to their places of work to try and gain information."

"But if you know all of this, then why are you here?"

"We find that we can often get the most valuable information when we look for it at the source. There's only so much information that our technical analyst can access," though Hotch knew this to be the furthest thing from the truth, "and it would be very helpful if you could get us any and all records that you have for this list of past students." Hotch pulled out the list that Garcia had compiled and handed it to the Dean. The man seemed to read over every name with great care.

"Do you recall any of those students?" Morgan inquired.

The man startled and looked up, cracking a wry smile at the dark-skinned agent. "Do you know how many students are traipsing around Georgetown on any given day?"

"I suppose not then." Morgan mumbled, slightly disgruntled at the lack of information.

"Let me give this list to the secretary and she can begin to pull the records." The Dean said.

"We appreciate that, thank you." Hotch seemed to think a moment before he next spoke. "Perhaps you could escort us to the main faculty building of the Health Sciences? Many of these students only graduated in the last year or so, there should still be students and staff members who can provide us information regarding them."

"I understand. If you can follow me, I'll give this list to the secretary and then we can go to the faculty while we wait for the records to be pulled."

O-O-O-O-O

Alyson shivered where she sat. Not from fear as she usually did but this time from cold. The Unsub hadn't even given her the opportunity to towel herself dry before he had herded them back to the room to redo their 'coffee date'.

She had her arms wrapped around her torso in a meagre attempt to keep warm, glaring at their captor resentfully as he went about preparing their coffee. Just the slightest shake of Spencer's head was enough to remind her to bite her tongue. It seemed like they both had learned their lesson and were on their best behaviour.

"I'm so glad you gave me a second chance Alyson." Spencer started, trying to ease the tension and sate the Unsub. "After my behaviour the last time, I didn't think you would. I wasn't… myself."

She smiled as she was due and responded in the sweetest tone of voice that she could possibly muster. "That's quite alright Spencer. We all have our bad days. It's only human." They both smiled at each other genuinely after that, the apology becoming far more real than either of them intended.

Alyson's teeth began to chatter, and the gooseflesh that had risen on her skin seemed to rise even further. Spencer looked at her in concern but refrained from doing anything for fear of making the situation worse. It was at that moment that the Unsub placed a mug down in front of Alyson, turning to retrieve Spencer's as the young woman grasped it in both hands and allowed the heat to seep into her shivering palms.

The young agent glared down at his mug reproachfully when it was placed in front of him, suddenly jealous of Alyson. It was apparent that her coldness was far outweighing her disgust, and she slurped the dirty coloured liquid with such speed that she didn't appear to taste it – anything to aid her in warming up her frozen body. Spencer took a page from her book, and scrunched his nose slightly as he began to down the contents of his mug – fighting the urge to gag.

He finished his entire mug in one pull and was pleased to note that Alyson had done the same. The sooner they drank their coffee, the sooner they could get out and back to their room. It became apparent after a small while, however, that this was not the case; as the Unsub made no move to clear the table or dismiss them from their 'date' in any way.

The young physiotherapist looked about in confusion, and seemed to realise that their captor expected more of them around the same time that Spencer did. They both resigned themselves to putting on a little show, and Alyson actually had to stifle a small bout of laughter as their hands bumped against each other, both of them reaching across the table to grasp the other's hand at the same time.

Spencer smiled at her. "Telepathy."

"Great minds." She said, in way of answer.

"That too."

They sat like that for a small while, the silence surprisingly comfortable, fingertips brushing lightly against each other.

"Your hands are cold." Spencer said, stating the obvious, cradling one of her hands in both of his in an attempt to warm it up; marvelling at how tiny it was when engulfed by its own. A light blush spread across Alyson's cheeks at the motion, though she made no attempt to reclaim her hand. She found the gesture soothing, even though her heart was racing and she had no clue as to why.

She flicked her eyes away from Spencer's and towards the Unsub's, self-conscious under their intensity. She was pleased to note that the man's hostile nature had seemed to recede a bit. She took this to be a positive sign and made a move, emboldened by this revelation.

"I like you Spencer." She said, and the young agent startled. He peered at her closely and found no falsity in her words. She was being completely genuine. "I know that we've only known each other for a short time, but I can relate to you. I can trust you." She looked up at him and suddenly it was his turn to squirm under _her _gaze.

"The feeling's mutual." He said finally, and both Alyson and the Unsub appeared to be satisfied with his answer.

They sat a while longer in companionable silence, until Alyson decided that she could take no more of the cold and hastened to move things along. "I'd very much like it if I could see you again, maybe a little more regularly? You know, more often?"

"I'd like that too. Maybe when you're better? You're shaking so much, maybe you have a fev-"

"I'm just tired." Alyson said hastily, seeing the unhappiness as it began to filter into their captor's eyes. "It's just been a long and taxing day. But I'd definitely like to see you again, maybe even tomorrow?"

Her words had the desired effect, and the volatile man visibly calmed as he heard them. For the first time since she had been in captivity, Alyson realised that she understood exactly what it was like to suffer from Battered Wife Syndrome.

"How about I call you tomorrow after you've had a good night's rest and we take it from there?" Spencer said, eager to end their day's torture and get back to their hotel room so that Alyson could get warmed up.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you so much for understanding."

"It's really no trouble at all. I had a wonderful time regardless."

"Me too."

O-O-O-O-O

"Yes. Yes I understand. Okay. Go back to the precinct and see if you can find anymore leads. The secretary at the University is just accessing all of the records before she forwards them electronically, so you and the rest of the team can start going through those while Morgan and I finish up here. Okay. Thank you J.J." Hotch sighed as he disconnected the call and looked up at Morgan. "That was J.J., aside from finding out what we already know they really didn't get much information from the places of work. They were all model employees and great Clinicians. Everything we expected."

Morgan nodded and then refocused his attention on the Dean; they had just come up to the entrance of the main building of the faculty of the Health Sciences. "I'm not entirely sure of what you hope to get out of this agents." He said, gesturing towards the door. "But I hope you find the answers you're looking for."

Both Hotch and Morgan shook his hand in thanks and watched as he walked off; entering the building in the hopes of finding much needed leads. Both men were immediately overcome by the pace and frenzy of the faculty. It appeared that everyone had something to do and a place to be, and it became apparent that it was going to be difficult to interview anyone, let alone the right people. Thankfully, Morgan's tablet _pinged_ at that exact moment, indicating to the two agents that the records of the past students had been sent through. At least now they had a valid starting point.

Looking through the list, Morgan found that all of the female victims had been dispersed within the Health Sciences, studying to become Doctors, Nurses, Physiotherapists, Occupational Therapists, Speech Therapists and even Pharmacists. He looked at Hotch with a hopeless expression before querying where they should start. Hotch was about to respond that they should start in the study centre, when a young woman approached them.

"Excuse me." She said nervously, her voice barely carrying a single octave towards the agent's ears. "Are you with the F.B.I.?"

"Yes ma'am we are. And you are?"

"Oh." She said quickly. "I'm Jenna McTyre. I'm a fourth year BPharm student." When she saw that neither Hotch nor Morgan had anything further to say she continued. "Are you investigating the kidnappings?" Her voice broke on the final word and her eyes welled with tears. Immediately the agents knew that this was personal.

"We are. Do you know anything about the kidnappings?"

"No! No, well… I… I don't but… my friend, Lisa, she was in the year above me and… and she was really kind to me…" Jenna suddenly broke off, overcome with emotion as tears spilled from her eyes. "She was taken, and she was killed!"

Quickly Morgan looked through the names on his tablet whilst Hotch tried to calm the young woman, patting her shoulder gently.

"Here she is." Morgan said. "Victim three, Lisa Hastings."

"Is there anything you can tell us about your friend Jenna? Did she have any enemies on campus? Someone who wanted to hurt her?"

"No! She was possibly the kindest person in this entire faculty! Everyone would say so! She was straight as an arrow. She had top grades, a loving and supportive family, friends…"

"A boyfriend?" Morgan prompted.

"Well, no, though I'm sure she could have if she wanted one; but despite that she was one of those people that seemed to have it all, you know?"

Hotch and Morgan gave each other knowing looks. Jenna's description of Lisa fit the profile to a T. It almost sounded as if she were describing Alyson.

"If you want." Jenna ventured. "I have some friends who knew Lisa better than I did. A lot of them were friends with some of the other girls who went missing while they still studied here. I can take you to them if you want?"

"That would be great Jenna, thank you."

"It's no trouble at all. We all want this guy found, a lot of us are scared he's going to come and take people from campus. Do you know why he's targeting Georgetwon?"

"That's one of the things we're hoping to find out Jenna." Said Hotch demurely.

"Oh okay. Well if you come with me I'll take you to the study centre, it's where most of us go when we have any time for ourselves."

"Lead the way."

O-O-O-O-O

Walking down the corridor for what felt like the thousandth time since they were taken did nothing to improve Alyson's already tired and battered body. She though that walking down a corridor in nothing but her underwear and a skimpy tank-top would be bad enough, but then she felt the eyes of the Unsub on the back of her head the entire way down and shivered from more than just the cold.

Even though her arms were wrapped firmly around her torso, Spencer tried his best to comfort and warm her by rubbing a hand up and down her arm, trying to create heat with the friction. When he saw that even that wasn't working, he decided to damn both his comfort zone and his inhibitions and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Alyson startled at the contact but then leaned in to his side, anything to get towards a source of heat.

They both felt awkward and unsure at the physical intimacy and proximity of the action, yet neither of them pulled away; drawing comfort from an embrace that was becoming surprisingly familiar.

Spencer reached out a hand, eager to grasp the handle of their door and put an end to what could only be described as a traumatising day.

"Stop."

The profiler's hand froze in mid-air, quelled by the steel in the Unsub's voice. He looked over his shoulder at the man and raised his eyebrows in question.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion but realisation dawned on him when he felt Alyson's sharp intake of breath.

"You both had such a good time after all." And the man actually had the audacity to smirk at them. To actually look smug in the face of the current situation and everything he had done within it.

Spencer looked down at Alyson and found her staring at the floor, resolute not to look at him, clearly distressed by the situation.

"We haven't got all night." The burly man hissed, and the malice in his tone prompted the two of them into action.

Alyson looked up and Spencer's hand found her chin, they both looked at each other expectantly, almost apologetically, and then their lips met. It broke Alyson's heart because it was something she had considered as wanting, something that she had contemplated pursuing, but not under duress – not like this. She didn't know that Spencer held the same sentiment, that the feel of Alyson's mouth against his was both electrifying and soul shattering, because he hadn't felt any sort of connection or pull with another person the way he did with Alyson, and maybe it was because they were both captives together and prisoners of circumstance, but he didn't want to label it and he didn't want to care. He hated that they were being forced to do this but thankful that he was finally able to.

What kind of a person did that make him?

They pulled away after mere seconds, the young profiler doubting whether what they had just done could be considered a kiss at all, but he turned from Alyson's blushing face to the disgruntled one of their captor, and saw some level of satisfaction that indicated that he was alright with the display that they had just put on.

Spencer didn't give the man a single last thought as he turned the handle, opening the door to their room and ushering Alyson inside, before entering after her and shutting it with a resounding 'click'.

O-O-O-O-O

Morgan began to rub his temples tiredly in agitation. They had speaking to the group of students for hours now, and had gained no valuable information of the victims aside from what they already knew. The manner of the discussion would move from information getting to the small group of students panicking over whether they were next on the Unsub's list. The process was turning into a cycle, and Morgan was beginning to get tired of it.

"Is there anyone," Morgan interrupted a girl with a pinched nose and lank hair, "who you can think of, that reminds you of any of the victims or is similar to them in any way?" He was met with a dozen confused faces. "Someone with a similar work ethic maybe? It says here in our records that all of the victims achieved good grades in their studies and had at least one, if not more, jobs either on or outside this campus."

"Morgan where are you going with this?" Hotch asked.

"Maybe we've been looking at this the wrong way Hotch. We know our guy's a chauvinist right? He himself probably gets good grades and has multiple jobs and feels threatened by these young women who perform at the same level, if not better than he does, in their studies and their external occupations."

Hotch nodded in response to Morgan's statement, seeing no fault in his argument.

"Well, there is someone…" Jenna began. "Only there's something that pulls them from the profile."

"And what's that?" Morgan asked.

"She's not a dude."

"Come again?"

"Your profile? A student, smart and studious; good grades and at least one job? A hard-working _male?"_

"Regardless, who is this person? What made them come to mind?"

"Her name's Elizabeth Arlington-"

"Oh my god, that _freak!?"_ The pinched-nose girl exclaimed.

"Veronica!" A brown-skinned man in scrubs admonished.

"What?" Veronica challenged. "She was a freak. The day she graduated wasn't just the best day of _her_ life; it was the best day of all of our lives."

No one in the group moved against her, and Morgan raised his eyebrows. It was clear that there was no love lost between Elizabeth and the students in front of them.

"Elizabeth graduated two years ago." Jenna explained. "She studied to be a nurse."

"And what made her come to mind?" Morgan inquired.

"I don't know exactly. She just… had this way about her. Like she was always watching people. She was outright resentful to anyone studying to become a Doctor and thought she was better than everyone else in her degree."

"So that makes her a serial killer?" Morgan quipped, irritated by the petty nature of Jenna's claim.

"No, it's not that." The man who admonished Veronica ventured. "We were both in first year at the same time. She applied for medicine, but her father wouldn't allow her to pursue it. She complained to me about it one day. She said that he had told her that only men can become Doctors and women become Nurses, because men have to make the decisions and women have to follow them."

Hotch and Morgan looked at each other then, a heavy feeling settling in the pits of their stomachs. This was starting to sound familiar.

"She hated him for it." The man continued. "But she did nursing, because she was determined to make something of herself and stand on her own two feet. I tell you what; if she wasn't in lectures or in the wards she was either working for income or studying in the library."

"Wait." Someone from the back piped up. "Is that the girl who used to sit and talk to the janitor?"

"Yeah that's the one." The man in the scrubs turned back to Morgan and Hotch and explained upon seeing their confused faces. "She befriended one of the janitors who used to work here. He had the night shift, and they'd talk for hours, almost every night. People were really horrible about it, there was even a rumour that they were a thing –"

"I doubt it was just a rumour." Veronica quipped, her pinched nose in the air.

"Where in the faculty does the janitor work?" Hotch asked. "We'd like to speak to him."

"Oh, no he doesn't work here anymore." Jenna said. "He left around the same time as Elizabeth, after she graduated."

"That's not a coincidence Hotch." Morgan stated.

"No, it's not." Hotch pulled out his phone and dialled. "Garcia, I need you to find me everything you can on Elizabeth Arlington." He moved the phone away from his ear and appraised the group. "What was the name of the janitor?"

The students looked around at each other, no one remembering the name of the man who used to clean the floors beneath their feet.

"I think it was Sergio." Jenna said quietly. "I don't know his last name. He was Hispanic."

Hotch nodded at her and then replaced the phone. "I also want you to look into one of the janitors who worked in the University's Health Sciences building during the time that Elizabeth Arlington was a student. His name may be Sergio, and he's Hispanic. I think the two may be connected." The Unit Chief finished on the phone with Garcia and looked to Morgan, they both thanked the group standing before them and headed out of the building.

They finally had what felt like a viable lead, and they'd be damned if they let even a single second of it go.

**A/N: This chapter is for ****Ryuno chu**** and justme, because they gave me the much needed kick up the butt to get going on this story once again. But I would also like to thank: People Person I'm Not; FireFox Vixen; Annber03and Rebecca1 for their reviews and continued support. Of course this chapter is for you guys as well, and I really hope that you enjoyed it.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited etc. I really appreciate it! This took a lot longer than I wanted but much better than last time right? Hope you enjoy!**

**Day Five**

The team was exhausted. They'd stayed up the entire night once they'd realised that what they had found was a certifiable lead, every one of them determined to put in relentless hours of work to see Spencer and Alyson returned to them safely.

Most of the night had been devoted to combing through the student files that they had managed to access at the university, while Garcia uncovered all of the information that she could possibly muster concerning Elizabeth Arlington and Sergio; whose surname was still unknown.

It was only after hours of searching, and copious cups of coffee that Emily Prentiss' eyes widened in realisation and she spoke up.

"Guys, I think I found something."

"What is it?" Asked Hotch hurriedly, eager that someone finally had something to offer.

"I can't believe I missed it before, but look here. All of the female victims literally graduated top of their class. They were all Dux Scholars."

"So?" Morgan asked.

"_So_," Prentiss emphasised, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We finally have a motive. Sure all the female victims fit a specific profile, but so did countless others enrolled in the university and even that faculty specifically, yet none of them were targeted. This is very specific…"

"And jealous." Rossi piped up. "Jealousy and specificity… very common in female killers with an agenda."

"Exactly. We might have been looking at this completely the wrong way." Prentiss seemed to think a while before she next spoke. "The crimes show rage, but the murders themselves, and the time it takes for them to be committed, shows confusion..."

"But we're forgetting the amount of force that would be needed to subdue both the men and the women." Morgan argued. "The Unsub would need to be powerful physically to evoke fear, and there's no way a woman would be able to dump the bodies the way that we've been finding them."

"I agree with Morgan." J.J. interjected. "But it is possible that this could be a duo, a male/female partnership. Obviously we have to look in to what Garcia finds out for us about Elizabeth, but given what her fellow students had to say about her, it seems very likely that she could be a part of all of this."

"And Sergio is the much needed puzzle piece that accounts for Morgan's argument." Prentiss concluded, shrivelling her nose up in distaste. "I'd prefer that he didn't have the same name as my cat though."

The team all chuckled at that, but were promptly cut-off when Garcia came crashing through the doors of the precinct.

"You are not going to believe what I just found."

O-O-O-O-O

Being alone together after the kiss had been… awkward, to say the least. Alyson had run straight to the bathroom, eager to dry up and get changed so that she could actually get warm. She'd then spent over an hour in the confined space, procrastinating over what she was going to say to Spencer and how she was going to approach things.

Eventually she'd mustered up the courage, and had resolved to telling him the conflicting truth of what she was feeling. But she'd walked out of the bathroom and found him completely passed out, sprawled across the couch at such an awkward angle that she knew that he'd been waiting up for her.

What she didn't know was that he'd resigned himself to telling her the exact same thing.

So she'd left him where he was, feeling too bad to wake him when she knew that sleep was so difficult for him to find, and she'd gone to the bed, falling asleep as soon as she'd settled her head on the pillow – though it hadn't been more than an hour before she'd been woken.

At first, Alyson hadn't been entirely sure what had roused her. The room sounded as quiet as it had ever been, but then she'd heard it; a gasp of breath, a quick rasping sound, and heavy breathing. She'd sat up instantly and turned on the lamp beside the bed, squinting at the sudden onslaught of illumination. Nothing had seemed awry, but then her eyes had focused and found the source of the sound.

Though he hadn't seemed particularly distressed, it had been obvious at the time that Spencer was having a nightmare. A slight sheen of sweat had coated his brow, and he'd twisted every now and then with sharp, painful movements. Alyson hadn't given it a second thought when she'd climbed from the bed and had walked towards him.

She'd placed her hand gently upon his shoulder and he'd immediately jerked awake. Startled, she'd jumped back, the only sound being her rapid breathing. The young agent had barely appeared awake, and he'd appraised the room slowly, completely disoriented.

"Spencer?" Alyson had whispered, which prompted him to look at her, though it had appeared like he was looking through her.

She'd looked at him in confusion, and a sudden and overwhelming sadness overcame her. He'd looked completely lost. Like a puppy who'd been taken to the pound after the novelty of being a gift had worn off. He'd looked sad, vulnerable, and… broken.

"Come on." She'd said eventually, holding out her arm. "Come to bed."

And he'd followed her blindly, pushing himself off of the couch and taking the palm that had been offered to him, stumbling towards the bed and collapsing onto one of its sides the moment that he'd been able.

Alyson had manipulated the blanket and tucked him in, before she'd moved to her side and followed suit. She'd given him one last glance before she'd turned to the side and switched the lamp off, smiling at the vision that had been his mop of brown hair and his content face, peaceful in the midst of sleep.

She'd made a pact with herself in the darkness after that.

For as long as they were in that hotel, and for as long as she knew him if they got out of it alive; she vowed that Spencer Reid would never sleep alone in the darkness again.

O-O-O-O-O

The satisfied smirk on the technical analyst's face was enough to have just about every member of the team bouncing on their heels with excitement.

"Attention..." Garcia squealed. "Check! Anticipation... Check! Chocolate thunder..."

"Garcia..." Hotch warned, though his eyes softened as he did so.

"Oh alright." She relented exaggeratedly, sighing in mock frustration. "So I managed to contact the secretary at the university. She was able to get me Elizabeth Arlington's file, as well as provide me with details on Sergio -"

"Wait." Morgan cut in. "Why did you have to go through the university's secretary? Couldn't you find it yourself?" He teased, satisfied at her responding outraged expression.

"Yes _thank you _Mister Muscle, but as it turns out, rich trust fund brats can get just about anything hidden on the web. It was easier and more time efficient to go through someone else, though for the record... I _could _have accessed them myself... I just chose not to!"

The team remained silent then, a few sniggers escaping from Prentiss' mouth from where it hid behind her hand.

"Elizabeth Arlington, wealthy heiress to political beaurocrat Henry Arlington and self-proclaimed nobody Jennifer Arlington -"

"Garcia!"

"What? It's the truth! Jennifer Arlington's only claim to fame is the fact that she comes from old money and _still _married rich. I wouldn't even be surprised if her marriage was arranged for her!"

"That's not for us to decide Garcia." Hotch chided. "We have to keep an open mind."

Garcia grumbled but otherwise said nothing. "Aside from all the boring logistics and tragically sad stereotypes, there's really not much more I can tell you about Elizabeth Arlington..."

"Was she a Dux Scholar?" Prentiss asked.

Garcia looked slightly baffled by the question but fumbled around on her tablet for Elizabeth's academic transcripts nonetheless. She bit her lip as she continued her search and finally looked up, disappointed. "Nope. She wasn't at the top of her class, though she wasn't at the bottom either. Just average."

Prentiss looked triumphant at the information. "Motive." Was all she said, and no one could argue with her.

"And what about Sergio?" Morgan asked.

"Well you see that's where it gets interesting, hence why I marched my booty so swiftly over here. Let me break it down for you. Sergio Santinas is one of those tragic stories - a total enigma until you dig deeper. Fact of the matter is I could tell you his entire history; the arrests, the juvy, the abuse and the charges; but really we're trying to find our Baby Genius here and wasting our time on that would be ridiculously mundane. Basically, Sergio worked at Georgetown, and how convenient that he just so happened to be placed in the Health Sciences building about a year after Elizabeth enrolled. Obviously I don't know what happened in no man's land, but let's cut this long story short and skip to the part where he quit his job the very same day that Elizabeth graduated."

"Coincidence?" Hotch asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I think not." Garcia stated smugly. "Especially when you take into account the fact that the paper trail and records of them straight up disappear after that day. It's like they dropped off of the face of the earth."

That got the team's attention.

"There's definitely something deeper going on." Hotch said. "We need to go back and interview the students at the university again. We also need to contact and interview the families of Elizabeth and Sergio."

"Uh, problem." Garcia piped up. "You'll be able to make contact with Elizabeth's family no problem, but Sergio... well, he has no family to speak of. There was no father whilst he grew up and his mother was in and out of jail for drug abuse until she and his two brothers died in a house fire when he was seventeen."

"Foster parents?" Hotch queried.

"Here and there. But he was a bit of a runner."

"Okay, try and contact the foster home that he stayed at for the longest, as well as the one he went to right after the fire. Hopefully they'll be able to give us some information. Rossi and Prentiss, I want you to go to the university and interview the students again. J.J., You'll stay here and make contact with any of Sergio's foster parents once Garcia gives you their details, it's likely that you'll have to do the interviews telephonically. Morgan and I will go and speak to Elizabeth's parents and see what we can find."

The team nodded and split into their respective groups, eager to get on with their assigned jobs.

"Garcia." Hotch said, grasping her arm and pulling her closer to him. He dropped his voice to a whisper before he next spoke. "Please work as fast as you can. I don't think we have much more time left."

Her eyes widened before they narrowed in determination. "Yes Sir." And she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room.

O-O-O-O-O

As soon as her eyes began to flicker open she knew that she had been asleep for a long while, far longer than usual. Briefly, she noted the strange slant of the sun as it flickered through the wooden slats, but that wasn't what had awoken her.

No. What had awoken her was the sound of wood bending and splintering, and the gruff pants of air as someone breathed heavily from exertion.

She sat up slowly when she realized that the strange angle of the sun wasn't strange at all – it was only strange in that she hadn't seen so much of it in so long. She'd only ever been able to catch glimpses of it when it had crept through the splintered slat; but now, she saw it, all of it, as it shone brightly through the massive window that Spencer had managed to unveil.

Alyson looked away from the window and gaped at the agent instead, his responding smile so wide and dazzling that she was more blinded by it than by the sun. Of course she had to respond with an excited smile of her own.

She hopped off of the bed, all traces of sleep and tiredness gone, as she practically ran to window. Alyson pressed her palms against the glass, relishing at its warmth from baking in the sun all day. She then pressed her cheek to the glass and closed her eyes in contentment, a satisfied smile stretching across her lips.

"I knew you wanted to see it just as much as I did."

His voice startled her slightly, so quiet and ethereal was the atmosphere of the room.

Opening her eyes, she appraised him, and was glad to note that a good night's sleep and just a mere few seconds in the sun had seemed to make the world of difference to him.

"Honestly, I thought you were a vampire."

He gave her a confused look and appeared put-off at the notion. She laughed lightly and hastened to explain herself. "It's true! You hardly ever seem to sleep at night, and you're so pale I was beginning to think you'd never seen the light of day. Just a few more days cooped up in here and I think your skin would have turned transparent!"

Spencer snorted and smiled at her, crossing his arms in front of him in mock seriousness. "That seems rather rich coming from you Miss Roberts." He made a point of looking her up and down before quirking a brow.

Alyson's mouth dropped open in indignation and she slapped his arm playfully. "Don't sass me Reid; I know exactly which muscles to push to ensure maximum pain exposure."

"Oh no please! Anything but that!"

She waggled her fingers threateningly in front of him for a few moments before they both burst into laughter.

With the sun shining on them and their laughter filling the room, it was easy for the two of them to forget where they were and why.

Eventually though, they managed to contain themselves and Spencer smiled again when he next spoke. "I'm going to go have a shower. I'm not quite sure I remember when I last had one." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Whoa!" Alyson intoned. "If Mister photographic memory can't remember then you _know _it's been too long!"

"Eidetic!"

"Same diff!" She waved her hand flippantly. "Now go good Sir, I cannot tolerate the smell of you a moment longer!"

He could only roll his eyes playfully at her dramatics, but he did as he was bid, and soon Alyson found herself in their room alone after the bathroom door gave a resounding _click _as it closed behind him.

She breathed out a puff of air and turned to go back to the bed when the bathroom door opened again.

"Oh, and Alyson?"

She looked up at him, surprised to see his head peeping around the door.

"I believe it's 'Mister Handsome', if my memory serves me correctly." And with that he winked and shut the door, leaving a gaping Alyson staring after him.

She didn't move from where she stood for a few seconds after, and then laughed quietly to herself at the young agent's antics. This was certainly a side to him that she hadn't seen before.

Smiling, she hopped on the bed and allowed herself to think. She'd completely forgotten about her worries from the night before, and apparently so had Spencer. But now that she was alone, with the man only a door away from her, her anxiety began to set in. They were completely alone in the room, as they had been for days now, yet for the first time she felt like she had something significant to lose. It wasn't just her life or Spencer's on the line anymore, but maybe even the kindling of something more for them in the future.

She knew she had to tell him how she felt. It was the right thing to do. But what if he laughed at her? No, she knew that he would _never _do that, but what if he didn't feel the same way? He was an F.B.I. agent for goodness sake! And not only that, he was a special agent, with the B.A.U. of all departments! _And _he was a doctor! Why would a genius like him ever think to have eyes for a lonely, overworked person like her?

The more she thought about it, the more she began to panic and psych herself out. When she was on the brink of a panic attack the thought suddenly struck her that he was a psychological profiler, which meant that he could read people's behavior and the emotions around them, which meant that he probably knew how she felt about him right? If he knew but didn't do anything about it then he obviously didn't feel the same way about her… right?

God! He probably thought that she was some pathetic little girl! Naïve enough to fall for her companion in a captive and stressful situation. He probably thought she was beyond pathetic!

Before she could even help herself, Alyson buried her face in her hands and let out a dismayed groan of humiliation. How would she ever look him in the eye again?

"Alyson, is everything alright?"

Quickly, she looked up, surprised to him standing before her, fully dressed and toweling his long hair dry. How long had she been sitting on the bed freaking herself out?

She felt the blush as it raced up her neck and into her cheeks, and jumped off of the bed with haste. "Yeah sure! Everything's fine! Why wouldn't it be?" The words raced out of her mouth without control, and she decided to escape before Spencer could think to respond.

The young woman barged past him and into the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind her.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Alyson let her back hit the door and lent her head up towards the ceiling, sighing out her stupidity and uncharacteristic jumpiness. She was behaving like a child! Acting so weird that she could practically see Spencer's confused expression from the other side of the door! The poor guy had no idea what kind of inner turmoil was going on through her head.

She decided that a shower was exactly what she needed; hopefully it would be able to clear her head and calm her down enough to approach the situation in a mature way.

So she stripped down and stood under the hot spray. The relief was instant but short lived, the warm temperature causing her blood to flow in her bruises, throbbing dully but painfully in an annoyingly persistent manner.

When she stepped out the shower she was dismayed to see the sight that she looked like in the mirror. Honestly, to the unknowing eye it looked like she had been beaten up by a gang of five… and it certainly felt that way.

She changed into the fresh clothes that she eyed on the counter; briefly unnerved at the fact that someone had once again been in their room. She combed through her hair and spent as much time in the bathroom as she could possibly manage, before she decided that she was going to man up and confront Spencer.

Breathing in deeply, she turned the handle on the door and stepped out into their room.

The first thing she noticed was that the sun was setting, and it surprised her when she realized that she had slept for most of the day.

The second thing she noticed was Spencer. He was standing right in front of the naked window, the early evening sun tanning his skin. His hands were in his pockets and his face was contemplative; maybe even a little sad.

He didn't turn when she walked out of the bathroom, though she knew he had heard her. She walked to the window and stood beside him, staring out at the skyline.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. He turned and appraised her, but otherwise said nothing. "For acting weird. I'm just… so confused."

Her heart started to beat faster when she was met with silence. He turned back to stare out the window and spoke softly. "Me too."

Two words and she was satisfied. In two words he had managed to communicate to her that everything that she was feeling was okay; and not only that it was okay, but it was natural, and that he was feeling it too. That was probably the best part of it all.

"Do you think he's going to come to us?" She asked. "Today I mean?"

"I don't know. There's never an exact time, but he's normally already fetched us by now."

Alyson nodded her understanding. "I really hope he doesn't come today. I just… need the night off." She laughed. "Everyone needs to take some leave from the job they hate from time to time."

He smiled at her. "I don't think I have it in me to contend with him tonight. I feel…"

"Drained? Yeah, me too. Maybe if we actually got something decent to it from time to time we wouldn't be so tired." She crossed her arms and pouted, clearly put off by the fact that she hadn't had a proper meal in five days.

"Does a sandwich count as decent?" He asked, as he moved away from her towards what she assumed to be the bed.

"A sandwich," she began dramatically, "would be the equivalent of a three course meal in this hellhole. And quite frankly I –"

She was cut off when Spencer dangled the object of her desires in front of her eyes. Immediately she jumped up and attempted to snatch it from his fingers, but he deflected her attempt with ease – one of the many advantages of being significantly taller than his fellow captive.

"Give me the sandwich!"

"Now now Alyson, what do we say?"

"Before I kick you!"

He laughed but threw the sandwich to her when she pounced, surprised that she hadn't noticed the food sitting at the door when she had awoken; given how hungry she was.

She sat down where she stood and began to tear into the bread. Spencer turned and retrieved the tray from the door and sat down beside her, the tray between them as they began to devour its meager contents. Peanut butter sandwiches and plain salted potato chips had never tasted so good to either one of them.

"You know he's really not the brightest button." Alyson said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well what if one of the captives had a peanut allergy? Either they'd eat it by mistake, choose not to eat at all, or eat it on _purpose. _Either way they die, and he can't get what he wants out of them."

"That's a good, if not morbid, theory. But you're forgetting about the extensive amount of research he puts in. Trust me if either one of us had a nut allergy he would know about it."

Alyson grumbled into her sandwiched and finished eating.

The sun was sitting on the very tip of the horizon by this point, and they were both slowly being blanketed by darkness.

Spencer pushed the tray away once they were finished, and they sat in amicable silence together as the sun disappeared and the stars began to peep out into the sky, one-by-one. It didn't take long for Alyson to lie down on her back to stargaze, Spencer following suit not long after.

Idly, she asked a question about the cosmos and the surrounding universe, not really expecting an answer but happy and surprised when one came. Spencer rambled about all of the facts that he had read and learned around her question, telling her everything he knew and even his opinion on some of the knowledge. Abruptly though, he cut himself off, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment at the tangent he had so eagerly set himself upon.

She turned her head to the side and looked at him then, but really looked at him. His cheekbones seemed higher in the moonlight, dusted with crimson, and his eyes sparkled with a sort of benevolence that was undeniably appealing. His lips had never looked fuller and his pale skin seemed almost translucent in the whimsical light. The image ached of perfection.

"Please." She whispered, reaching for him. "Tell me about it."

His face broke out into a magical smile that shone even in the pale light.

He looked to the night sky once again and narrowed his eyes at the blackness that was littered with stars. Lifting his arm, he pointed at a constellation and began to describe it. He told her how to find it, what its name was and what stars it was comprised of. He told her of its origin; its history and its significance through the ages before he moved onto another – then another; and then another again – until his words had filled the eerie silence of their prison, and had filled the air with warmth with their beauty.

Neither noticed when she unconsciously curled into his side, seeking his body heat; or how his hand had somehow found hers during one of his more lengthy explanations. She paid the utmost attention to everything that he was saying; even asking the occasional question – and he was grateful for it.

It was only when the conversation changed from constellations to planets and then to gravitational pulls that her breathing began to even out. His own breath didn't take long after to do the same, and soon they both found themselves in the arms of a peaceful sleep – one which had eluded them since they had both been taken, but seemed to hint at a possible kindling in the future to come.

He hadn't given a single thought to leaning over and kissing her forehead before he fell asleep. The action had seemed warranted. It was something that he had wanted to do.

It had felt right.

**A/N: Things are really going to speed up next chapter. The team's going to get going on their leads, and the encounters between Alyson, Spencer and their captor are going to get a lot more intense too!**

**Thank you for your patience! I don't have time for replies, but massive thanks must go out to: ripon, Anneber03, People Person I'm Not, Rebecca1, Sunshine-Midnight123, Ryuno chu and Not-Knowing-Is-Everything for being such faithful, patient and wonderful reviewers! You guys honestly keep me going and I hope you're enjoying this and that I'm not letting you down!**


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